


Tick Tock

by naturalblues



Category: Doctor Who, Firefly, Serenity (2005), Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 54,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturalblues/pseuds/naturalblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler is trapped in Pete's world, struggling with depression and heartbreak. When a new director takes over Torchwood, making a law that anyone who is found to have even befriended an alien must undergo 'correction', she must escape not only the asylum but also the universe to return to her Doctor. The Big Bad Wolf is going home... (Doctor/Rose) (Ranked T+ for asylum, jerked up to an M for smut way later) -- Graphic depictions of violence warning for safety purposes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Topography of the Parallel Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is rated M due to its content, not only due to the smut content that will be in later chapters, but due also to the fact that it features blood, battles, psychological disorders, character death, self harm, suicidal thoughts, description of certain psychological treatments that are less than legal or kind, hallucinations, and a definite cascade between what is real vs. what might not be. This story does contain angst, but it is also a romance story, and it holds some inspiration from Sucker Punch! and Girl, Interrupted. Any lines taken from those belong purely to their owners just as Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Bad Wolf features in this, although not quite the way she usually does, and this is most definitely a Doomsday fix-it. 
> 
> Each part will be long. This is a hints of Ten/Rose but the couple is Eleven/Rose. River will also feature in this fic, but not in the way she normally does. Don’t worry, River fans, there won’t be bashing. There will be fixing. 
> 
> I hope you like it, please review and let me know. 
> 
> This story is dedicated to my bb skittttlezz who believed in me, hugged me, squealed with me, put up with 1 am banter, and harped on me until it was done. Oh and snuck up on me while I was listening to my iPod twice! ... hvdu.
> 
> The next chapter and a good chunk of this one are also dedicated to the lovely Bubblygal92, whose stories are an inspiration to Classic Whovians everywhere.

* * *

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._  
  
  
That sound was her only comfort, the only thing in existence that made perfect, clear sense to Rose Marion Tyler. At least anymore. Which was funny in and of itself, because time made no justifiable sense. It was _wibbly wobbly_. It was at times linear, non-linear, sometimes it flowed as a river, and sometimes it all occurred at once, like the water in a lake. As such, it could go stagnant…. Sometimes the winds of change could occur… sometimes each thing had its place. There were good paradoxes, such as circular ones; bad ones, they brought the Reapers… time. It was the only thing that gave her comfort, this watch. It was one of the few things she’d been allowed to keep in this room. She’d had to prove herself in order to keep them, and she was convinced that one of the reasons she was even allowed them in the first place was because they were leverage. The employees here were very big on giving their _guests_ just enough possessions that they had something to need, something they would break without having. All she had was her necklace with the TARDIS key on it, her pocket watch with a picture of herself and the Doctor at Christmastime taped messily on the inside, a torn up children’s book, and of course, Mopsy. How did it come to this? She stared down at the ground, hearing the voices down the hall, the steps on the tile floors coming closer. She looked at her pocket watch, the time.  
  
  
12:15. The Doctor’s handsome face loomed on the other side of that watch. Smiling so hugely, at her. God, look at her smiling at him…. She’d been so happy. She’d been so beautiful… how did she look now? Oh wait, what was she thinking about? Oh right. 12:16 and 23 seconds…. Why would they come…?  
  
  
Of course. Feeding time. A well-fed crazy was a slow crazy. The slower they were, the easier to take them down. Rose had stopped eating full meals a long time ago, often refusing food altogether. She would only eat enough to stay alive, enough to keep from losing too much weight (then they got to put you on a feeding tube, and she’d rather _rot_ than give them any leeway to have her covered with wires and filled with tubes) but to give her a bit of energy. She could never be fully certain if her food had been poisoned, so small doses of her food worked to quell her mind. A weak poison would only disturb her system a bit if she ate small amounts, and any poison strong enough to kill in tiny doses would be fast, with luck. A rustle next to her alerted her to the presence of another, whose voice whispered, “They’re coming. Please eat this time. Please. Just a little bit.” She scowled. The orderly opened the flap on the bottom of the door, slid in a tray with cold tea and buttered toast on it, closing and locking the flap. “Better eat that this time, Tyler, you agreed, one meal a day. Or you don’t earn your gold star.”  
   
  
….God, what was she, fucking _five_? She had a chart outside of her… bedroom… of a calendar. If she ate once per day, she earned a gold star sticker. Any days without the sticker were considered ‘difficult days’, during which Mopsy whinged at her, the orderlies glowered over being forced to fetch a plate that was unused, and Doris, the head nurse, would be cross with her. Doris was an Irish woman, who was short, trim, and had some of the brightest red hair Rose had ever seen in real life. Her hair was always up in a tight bun, a no-nonsense bun to go along with her ever so riveting personality. She wore the traditional nurse’s dress and cap, her white tights and shoes always smudged from something to do with a patient. Oh, excuse her, a _guest_. That had been what the Director had written on the paperwork in order to excuse the wrongful commitment of every known alien in the UK.  
  
  
Her paperwork. Jesus Christ. She’d seen it. It would have sent the Oncoming Storm into an Oncoming Babble to end all babbles. Well, she’d seen _some_ of it, she was certain there was more.  
  
  
_Legal status at admission: Voluntary._ That was a laugh. But it was her diagnosis that really had gotten her to start thinking. _Established Diagnosis, Mental Disorder: Borderline Personality._ She’d frowned upon reading that, at the time. She hadn’t known precisely what it’d meant, and it looked so out of place with all of the other information, bland information that dumbed her down to her most basic information. It may as well have been a death certificate – _Education: High School Graduate, Sex: Female, Marital Status: Single_ , everything that made up her little world, even down to her mother’s maiden name and the address of her physician’s office. It was all there. She remembered those words glaring out at her, and she’d picked up a medical dictionary in the TV room – one of the few books on those mostly barren shelves. She’d have to complain about the environment she was a ‘guest’ in. The reading material had left much to be desired.  
She’d found what she was looking for. The words had jumped out of the paper at her, scary words. True words. Words like ‘repeated acts of destructive behaviour’, ‘unstable’, ‘anger’, ‘extreme behaviour’, ‘hallucinations’, and ‘episodes of depersonalization’. This lot was good, she had to admit, albeit begrudgingly. They were professionals, very good at making people disappear when need be. Even using the truth to do it.  
  
  
_Tick. Tock.   Tick. Tock._  
  
  
Mopsy shifted uncomfortably next to her, looking meaningfully at her food tray and then at her, obviously ready to launch into another of his attempts to convince her to eat. She frowned at him, she could always see him, even when she wasn’t looking at him. He was her imaginary friend, did she even remember when she first started seeing him? She did, didn’t she? Of course. When she first began to work for Torchwood. She hadn’t done it on purpose, but everything had become too much, she couldn’t handle the depression any longer, and she’d needed him. He was the Doctor but he wasn’t, just enough different that she wouldn’t have to see that spikey brown hair and those whiskey colored eyes staring at her with accusation, disappointment, or pity. Oh God, she wouldn’t be able to handle that, how much she probably disappointed the Doctor. No, Mopsy’s emerald eyes and floppy hair were different enough that it didn’t sting the same way. His Manchester accent made the words not sound enough like the Doctor’s, even if his babbling, odd mannerisms were so Doctor.... he was perfectly imperfect. He was in a suit of course, but where the Doctor had looked as eccentric as he _was_ , in brown pinstripes and a pair of Chucks, Mopsy wore tweed and honestly looked more like a raggedy Maths professor than anything else.  
  
  
He was comfortably uncomfortable for her. She needed him, and that was why he’d started appearing one day. It’d taken her _too long_ to notice that the man that had been consistently speaking to her and ‘running into her randomly’, the one she’d gotten a friendship with, the one she’d finally begun being happy with, been laughing with, speaking to, asking for paperwork at work, eating lunch with – no one else could see. This man for whom she’d begun to be happy, begun to put her feelings into, the one she’d trusted and finally found a way out of darkness because of....  
  
  
The coincidences, once they’d clicked into place, had caused a breakdown, and total regression.  
  
  
_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._  
  
  
“If you don’t eat something, it’ll be another bad day again. Really bad, really very very very not good. Doris will glare at you like she does, smoosh her face up in that way you insist makes her appear like an angry weasel, and demand of you all sorts of silly, rhetorical questions, such as ‘Are we going to have trouble here?’ and ‘Do I need to give you something to help you relax?’ and you know it’ll be Thorazine again. You don’t like the taste of it, it drops to your stomach and then your body feels dropped as well, and your life feels dropped enough, Tyler. Please. Please eat.”  
  
  
_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._  
  
  
Oh yeah. The Thorazine. Oh yeah, the star chart. Oh yeah, Doris.  
  
  
“She’ll call your TARDIS key a ‘sharp’ again, and take it away!” he sounded offended by the mere notion of something as complex and important as a TARDIS key could be reduced to its texture and considered a weapon for self-mutilation.  
  
  
_Tick….tock…._  
  
  
Fuck these people.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
_Tick….tick….tick…._  
  
  
The small crystal clock on Pete Tyler’s desk was so distracting to her. She was supposed to be paying attention to what her parallel father was telling her, but she was far too distracted by wondering why there was no distinctive ‘tock’ noise coming from that clock. For some reason, it bothered her when time telling devices did not make the noises. She was wearing a wristwatch, she had a pocket watch in her pocket, and was wearing a watch ring, one of the stretchy ones from the mall. She needed them, they made the noises, and they told time. Clocks ran her life, now. They made her think of that Time Lord in a way that was non-threatening, in a way she could remain calm. The ticking and tocking gave her a calm feeling reminiscent of the TARDIS’ humming.  She glanced up when she heard Pete pause, thoughtfully. _God, was he still talking?_ Just give her the job already, she knew it wasn’t even in question. Her mother had been harping on her, and Mickey too, that if she’d just find busy work she’d be able to adjust better. Maybe she would take her loss easier, and move on. But Rose knew better. She would never move on, and somewhere in them, they knew it too. She tuned out every one of their longwinded speeches about how she just needed to move on, new universe, new chances. All she heard was how irritated they must have been, or even frustrated, that she was the one not going with the program.  
  
  
“Now Rose, not that I’m doing this out of nepotism, although I will undoubtedly be accused of such by those who are unbearably jealous of you,” there was a twinkle in his eye, a fatherly twinkle that he reserved just for her. A parental tease laced in his words, he had never really been able to tease since becoming a bigshot. Jackie and him had had a tumultuous marriage, and by the end, nothing he did could please her, nothing was enough for her. She hadn’t appreciated him, she’d appreciated funds. But still, he’d been in love with her since high school. Since ever. He’d always wanted children, but his Jackie had complained about waistlines and never considered having children. He’d loved her, and believed it was her body, so it should be her choice whether or not she got pregnant. But he’d even suggested adoption, or surrogacy. She wouldn’t hear of any children. He’d loved her, and losing her had been so much pain. But gaining her parallel self had been incredible.  
  
  
Jackie’s parallel self had been everything he’d ever hoped his Jackie could be. She’d had to raise Rose without him, something he regretted, even though it wasn’t he who had died. She appreciated all of his hard work because she had painfully learned the value of work. She appreciated having him, because she had lost him. Jackie was still quick to anger, defensive, and impulsive. She still couldn’t cook worth a damn. She still had her controlling ways, but it was the endearing ways... she was a better, more mature version of the girl he’d fallen in love with in high school and married. She was also the most loving woman to him, she showered him with affection, his life felt like a beautiful romance story of its own.  
  
  
His life had changed so much. Now he had a fully grown daughter that amazed him, even though she was in such great pain. He could understand, losing Jackie had devastated him. Losing him had devastated Rose’s biological mother, Jackie. If he’d simply been separated from her, by universe…. God, he’d be in a similarly depressive state. He understood Rose in a way that he worried the others didn’t. He waited, just trying to show her that when she was ready to talk, he would listen. He would be a non-judgmental, sympathetic, fatherly ear. He couldn’t wait for his son’s birth, either. He wasn’t certain how to be a father but Jacks would help him, and Rose…. Rose would help him too. He reached over the table and touched her hand, on the back. She hated anyone holding her hand, too many memories. She glanced up at him, tilting her head to the side. Zoned out again.  
  
  
“…But…?”  
  
  
“But, I want you to work for Torchwood. I need you in Ops, Rose. Your prior experience makes you invaluable.” He always worded himself carefully to not mention him. He didn’t even use the word ‘Doctor’, he used ‘physician’ if only to keep her content. He’d do anything to help her.  
  
  
“I accept,” she murmured, glancing at his clock again. He’d been wondering what to get her as a present for her new desk at Torchwood. Perhaps the answer had been glaring him in the face. He’d buy her a desk clock. She’d love that, she seemed obsessed with telling time anymore.  
  
  
“Thank you, luv. You’re really doing your old man a favour here, getting me out of this tight spot. If you go to the front desk, Gertrude will give you all the paperwork to sign, and we’ll discuss schedules and necessities over dinner, mm?”  
  
  
She smiled at him, and he felt genuinely good. He was helping her, he was earning his fatherhood. She hugged him tightly, and even kissed his cheek! Did she just call him ‘dad’?! She had! His entire heart warmed in his chest, and he waved lightly as she left. He’d have to tell Jacks.  
  
  
The ticking was gone, and Rose felt a momentary loss as she left the office. She felt like she was in freefall again, and didn’t know how to hold her mourning at bay without those sounds. Oh God. Don’t think of the word, don’t think of the word, don’t… Doctor. Darkness permeated her feelings at that word… she tried so hard to keep the depression away. She needed him, he was the love of her life, he was The One…. She didn’t know how to function on the slow path anymore, she had seen too much. She didn’t want this, this feeling that her entire life had fallen apart. She had no one to talk to, everyone just wanted her to smile and be okay with it. She stepped over to the main secretary’s desk with her wrist by her ear, probably looking like a loon. The ticking and tocking of her wrist watch made it worth looking like anything, though; it was her security blanket. She glanced at the secretary who smiled, and set down a large pile of paperwork, to be signed in triplicate. Rose sighed, but smiled a bit; or at least tried to. She mostly just felt tired, and her heart hurt. It was so sore, she was convinced there would be no mending it, she just had to learn to put on a brave face... She wanted it so bad. She wanted a friend, someone to understand, someone perfect.  
  
  
A strange man came into her line of vision, making her glance up. He was right behind the secretary’s desk, walking toward her from the lifts. A bit strange looking, probably one of her father’s scientists… wearing a tweed jacket, a button down, a ridiculous bow tie, and boots, why boots…? His trousers were too short, and she really wondered why he would dress so odd… Oh right, scientist, him. Geniuses didn’t need to dress posh, they made up for whatever they wore with their minds. She must have been staring, because he was looking right at her, and smiled, a slow smile that took over his face. Oh Lord, she got a guilty look on her face, and knew she looked so very _caught_ , even though she shouldn’t feel such. It wasn’t like she was attracted to him, was it…? Oh God, she did find him attractive! She felt the hot burning shame and tried to play it down to a blush, looking back at her paperwork.  
  
  
Apparently, he didn’t comprehend that she was trying not to become involved, because he somehow was standing right next to her, smiling. She glanced at Gertrude while she was doing her paperwork, but the woman didn’t even glance up, just kept staring at her computer screen and typing.  
  
  
“That’s quite the daunting pile of paperwork. You’d think it’d all be electronic by now, what with the resources disappearing on this planet and the need to recycle and replant trees and the like. Honestly, paper is quite a renewable resource but human beings are absolutely awful at making certain to use things on a responsible level, if only they had thought to renew back when the science first started to occur….” _This one has quite the gob on him, Jesus._ He had a Manchester accent to him, which for some reason completed the weird professor getup. He seemed to take note of her reaction, and changed tactic. “I take it you’re brand new? I’m John, John Smith.”  
  
  
“I’m Rose Tyler.”  
  
  
Gertrude glanced up, raising an eyebrow in an ‘I know’ sort of fashion, but Rose was looking at the paperwork, signing her life away. She didn’t read it any more than she did her iTunes update contract. “Gertrude Johansson.” She murmured, and Rose looked up, smiling at her as well. John was looking at Gertrude with a smile as well.  
  


“She’s a nice secretary, Gertrude is.” He said, smiling softly.  
  
  
“Pleased to meet you, Gertrude.” She murmured, politely.  
  
  
The woman was smiling, and Rose thought, _Well, he can’t be that bad, ol’ Gertrude seems to like him, and from what I’ve seen of her for the past three months, Dad didn’t hire her for her computation skills. She’s shrewd._ She felt sorry that she hadn’t met her before now, but. She took the paperwork over to a table in the middle of the room to let Gertrude get her work done better. Rose knew she hated it when people leaned over her while she was working, somewhat like that man, John, had been and…. Jesus Christ, was doing right now. She continued signing the paperwork with near reckless abandon. She’d done it carefully the first fifteen pages, but the man was making her flustered as he just watched her, as if waiting for her to prompt him. Geniuses were so strange, it was a good thing she had years of experience with one of the biggest geniuses in the Multiverse to…. There it was. That sharp pain again, slicing into her heart. Her face fell, and all of that strength she tried to get a hold of dissipated. Suddenly, he spoke again.  
  
  
“Rose… Tyler, was it…? You wouldn’t happen to be related to Director Tyler, would you?”  
  
  
“Yes,” she replied, her frustration with the paperwork becoming more obvious. She was on page 32 now, this was past ridiculous. Just how much life did she have left to sign away?! “I’m his daughter. ….What abou’ you, Mr. Smith?? What do you do??” She raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to hint too hard that he was up in her business and she just wasn’t certain what to do. It was almost a comfort to have him hovering over her. Just like—oh no….. Instantly he spoke again, distracting her.  
  
  
“Physics. Astronomy. I’m afraid I do a bit of everything, to be honest. I’m very clever.” She smiled, and nodded slowly. Finally, she was done. Finally. That answer though, it reminded her of… and the instant the thought hit, before the pain could come full circle, he spoke again. Distracting her.  
  
  
“Would it be inappropriate of me to ask the Director’s daughter if she’d like a cuppa? I don’t know if you’ve seen the cafeteria here, but if you’d like, I can show you about. Not easy, being new,” he said by means of explanation. Worried she’d say no. Oh my, he was so helpful. Rose already knew where everything in this building was, but for some reason she wanted to see it with him. For some reason, she trusted him instantly, craved some form of social connection with another outside of her family, someone who wouldn’t know her story. Someone who wouldn’t give her a constant, pitying stare. She could hear the ticking of her clocks, and wondered if he did too. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. She glanced at one of the wall clocks. 2:42 and 19 seconds. She could do this.  She smiled, and nodded the affirmative, handing the completed paperwork to Gertrude, and asking her to tell her father that she was going to be shown around by a friend, and not to worry. She’d completely missed the raised eyebrow from the secretary, who had wondered if Rose had been speaking on a Bluetooth, but didn’t see one.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._  
  
  
Her mother had been looking at her with horror that morning, before she’d left for work. She wanted her own flat, but they refused to provide the funds. She would use her Torchwood wages for a flat, she’d decided. They had a long row, one that Rose felt had been coming for the past seven months of her being trapped in this awful 'Parallel Hell’ as she called it. Her mum was picking at her again and again, over how Rose should be dating, and Rose was working too much, and Rose could feel that pressure beginning to build further. Inside, she was screaming -- had been internally screaming for months. Her hands twitched, with the urge to cover her ears. Her legs twitched, she wanted to run. She did neither.  
  
  
“I’m just saying, get over that stupid alien git already and find a good _Earthling_ to be with! It’ll get you the hell out of the house! Find a _friend_ , for God’s sake! Spend some time with _other people_.”  
  
  
She couldn’t believe her ears. Her mother could be so thick, she was just railing at her as though what she felt meant nothing. “So bloody _sorry_ my heartbreak is so inconvenient for you, Mum.” she finally grit out, her tears brimming in her eyes nearly blinding her.  
  
  
“Excuse me, what was that?” the light tone of her mother’s voice was only used when it was a dangerous tone. She was angry. Good. Rose was tired of being the only one around here who was angry and hurt.  
  
  
“I said, I’m _sorry_ that my heartbreak, _mine_ , not _yours_ , is so bloody inconvenient for you mum! For you, for Mickey, for all of the lot of ya!” Her voice raised somewhere near the middle, and toward the end, while not shouting, she was beginning to sound a bit shrill. Her father stepped out of the dining room at that, looking between the two women.  
  
  
Jackie’s laugh was mirthless, and she shook her head. “Inconvenient?! Is that what you think?? You’re my _daughter_ , Rose. My little girl! You think it doesn’t hurt to see you in pain?! But you need to get over that ruddy alien and enjoy your family! I’m just trying to help you move on!”  
  
  
Rose knew her mum wasn’t intending to be harmful. She knew it. But, her mum’s words were also too little too late, damage had already been done by her mother’s attempts to 'fix’ what happened. Rose was too far gone from months of holding it in. She wanted to scream, but the only thing she could get out was a biting comment. “So why don’t you just keep on about how Brady Bunch bloody happy we are, eh?? I just love being spoken for, I ever tell ya?” she grabbed her car keys, angrily, and got out of the house, ignoring her mother yelling at her to get back there.  
  
  
“Rose Tyler don’t you walk away from me, I am _your mother_!” The bane of her existence from childhood on was hearing that phrase. That phrase was meant to cause instant submission. It used to work. Instead it just riled Rose up more.  She ignored her, revved the engine just for spite, and turned away from her mum to peel out of the driveway, blasting some heavy punk screaming music that she just didn’t normally listen to. She needed the music more and more of late, the screaming echoed her angry feelings.  
  
  
She didn’t have to be to work for another two hours but she just needed the drive. No destination, just a good, angry, shouting with the song lyrics sort of drive. It was cathartic. It was beautiful. It was something that made her feel better. She cranked up the next song, 'Hot n Cold’ by Katy Perry, who didn't exist in this universe, so it was sung by a punk band called Woe is Me. She felt the thrum in her veins from speeding while ....singing, she supposed it was singing she was doing. Once she hit a red light, her mobile chimed. A text from her mum.  
  
  
_If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. But I think you should see a psychiatrist. Your dad said you lot have one at Torchwood so no one would ever know._  
  
  
She didn’t know what to think about that, but she did know that her mum’s suggestion to see a therapist was out of the damn question.  
  
  
She gunned the engine as the light changed green. Fuck that, she was done letting other people speak for her.  
  


  
  
  
_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._  
  
  
Her ….dad, Pete, he’d bought her a new desk clock. It was a fancy one, made of crystal. It looked like a miniature grandfather clock, only the pendulum spun. She had cried when she’d received it, baffling her mother and concerning Pete for a moment. It’d been the first thing he’d given her that was an actual _gift_ , something that had taken time and him actually noticing things she liked. She’d smiled a watery smile at him, because laughter through tears was her favorite emotion. The hug she’d given him was unable to be helped, even though she’d tried to distance herself from him a bit. She knew the Doctor wanted her to mould into this life, to live a good life, but she couldn’t suddenly delve into a relationship with her parallel father. It would take time. Not to mention her mother and Mickey were just pissing her off. It’d made her feel so alone in this world, more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. Her mum was eight months gone now, and all she and Mickey could talk about was how everyone was one big happy family. Whenever Rose was mentioned by her mum, her mum was always certain to mention, in a chuffed tone, how truly happy Rose was in this universe and how perfect it was for their family. It made Rose angry to hear it, not only because she was decidedly unhappy but also because she hated being spoken for that way. Her mum knew how _unhappy_ she was, how heartbroken she was. Her mum knew, and was trying to force the situation to her own comfort instead of taking Rose into account. It only solidified her darkest inner thoughts – that her _family_ would be better off without her. They’d certainly be happier. But she couldn’t run off to her home universe, so that only left room for darker thoughts that she refused to entertain. Rose felt that darkness clawing at her right now, and made a snap decision to call the one other person she’d met in this universe that actually made her feel less alone. She picked up the phone, and dialed the extension for the Geek Department, aka Research and Development.  
  
  
“Hello, Research and Development, this is Clive.” Clive? She hadn’t met him yet, but it was his first week, she knew that she would eventually.  
  
  
“Hello Clive, its Rose Tyler. I need the latest paperwork on that ship that crash-landed last week.”  
  
  
“No problem Ms. Tyler….” he paused, asking 'what?’ faintly to someone who sounded near him. “... I’ll send Beth.” His voice had an odd tone,  as though confused. Why did everyone take a funny tone when speaking to her? Oh, of course. Director’s daughter. That’s what it was. But he genuinely sounded confused by something, instead of using the ‘walking on eggshells’ tone.  
  
  
“Actually, I was wondering if you could send John up to do it? Not that Beth isn’t wonderful, but I’d like to ask his opinion on a few more things.”  
  
  
“……John? And which John would that be, Ms. Tyler?”  
  
  
“John Smith. Your physicist.” There was an awkward pause, and the sound of two people talking with the phone semi-covered. She couldn’t hear, but then Beth came on the line.  
  
  
“Of course Ms. Tyler, we’ll send John right up. Can you leave any papers that you want him to take with on the side of your desk? Just so he doesn’t forget?”  
  
  
Rose smiled, comforted in an instant into forgetting how strange the conversation sounded. Clive sounded so confused and nervous, and Beth had sounded so coached… like she was reassuring a child that Santa existed. But it was easy to ignore as she gave her affirmative, and a few pleasantries before ending the phone call. She set her paperwork on the side of her desk and turned away from that part of her L-shaped desk, to the computer that faced away from the entrance to her cubicle. She heard the ding of the elevator, and was about to be excited, except she deflated upon only hearing Beth’s voice, and no one else’s. She sighed and went back to her computer. She’d seen something on her computer screen, someone was by her desk. She heard the sound of papers moving, and wanted to turn around, but something prevented her. Something inside, telling her not to. She counted the seconds with every tick and tock of her new desk clock, the dark thoughts trying to come back. They’d been festering all day, she realized. Because today was the day, the exact day, the anniversary of Bad Wolf Bay. This day every month was her worst day. She hated this.  
  
  
Just as the feelings made her stomach feel cold, she heard a Manchester accent behind her, calling her attention.  
  
  
“Specifically requesting my presence now, Tyler?” That could have been the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard in this universe. She smiled widely, and every dark thought was instantly forgotten as she turned around in her chair to face her friend.  
  
  
“Why yes, Mopsy, you’ve caught me. I couldn’t bear an instant without you.” She laughed softly, and he looked at her, nodding at the paperwork on her desk.  
  
  
“Got those figures for you, Tyler. But that’s all boring. How about we skive off work and go for a walk?”  
  
  
She grinned widely and grabbed her jacket. “You’re a dreadful influence on me, Mopsy.” She’d started calling him that when he’d insisted on calling her ‘Tyler’, claiming that it fit because he was a flopsy, mopsy, raggedy professor looking man, and after his initial offense, she’d told him it made him look cool. After, he accepted her nickname with pride.  
  
  
“I’m the only influence on you, Tyler.” What was that touch of foreboding? She smiled at him, walking away from her desk. He reached for her hand, and their hands touched. His touch was light and cold. She tried not to think about how much the cold skin reminded her of another, and only marveled at how perfectly their hands fit together.  
  
  
“Cold hands," she murmured softly, walking to the lifts with him, pressing the button.  
  
  
“Warm hearts," he murmured, but she couldn’t be certain if that had been pluralized, or if it was just the sound the ‘t’ made in the soft whisper he’d used.  
  
The ding of the elevator broke her out of her reverie, and she smiled at him, feeling some relief.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Rose stood in the Hub by her team, going over a few pieces of paperwork. Her outfit was her usual one when actually doing Ops work. She preferred nice jeans, kitten heels or flats, and a good blouse occasionally paired with a blazer when doing only desk work, trying to keep it office casual. It made it easier to blend in with the crowd when they left for lunches off property. But when she was doing Ops work, she wore thick black leggings that made it easy to maneuvre any way necessary, knee high combat boots, a black shirt, and her black Torchwood zip up leather jacket. Her current jacket was asymmetrical, and one she preferred to keep unzipped and open when not on a case. She frowned, something was off with the paperwork, like it was missing an important page.  
  
  
She walked over to Owen, who was patching up the idiot alien that they’d just saved from London police for crashing through a warehouse. Thank God he was humanoid. “Owen, I’m going to need a full report of every single treatment you applied on the Creoloid case, and this one you’re currently in too. I keep missing paperwork to complete my files, and damn if it isn’t always yours that goes missing!” her eyes narrowed. Owen was a brilliant doctor, but such a pain in the arse when it came to his personality.  
  
  
Owen rolled his eyes while giving the alien, who insisted his name was ‘Mister Sir’, simply because he liked the way it sounded, sutures. “I told you I turned it in, the magenta bloody copy, just like you lot keep harping on me about.”  
  
  
“It’s the goldenrod copy they need, Owen.” muttered Tosh, from her laptop. She was absorbed, as usual. “When Gertrude receives your magenta copy she sends it down to the Archives, where the magenta copy _actually goes_.”  
  
  
Toshiko Sato really was a nice person. She was a whiz with computers, and contributed happily to their team. She considered everyone family, even the newer members that she hadn’t known for very long. Tosh’s hair was black and ramrod straight, brushing just past her shoulders, and her eyes were a soft shade of chocolate. Her brown eyes completed her in that way, reflecting her warm personality. She continued typing in the column for inventory, making an order for more ammo, and an extra net, since Owen lost the last one.  
  
  
“I thought Rose received magenta, and Pete received the white, and Archives received the blue, and I kept the goldenrod,” the black haired man insisted, almost petulantly. Really, he wasn’t fooling anyone on the team, they knew he just didn’t care about paperwork. He thought it was too corporate. His dark jeans showed all of the sploshes of the past day’s events, some of it was blood, some of it chemical, and some sludge parts just didn’t dignify identification. He adjusted his posture, feeling the soreness starting in his lower back.  
  
  
Ruby Storm, another member on their team, let her head fall back in exasperation. She dressed in her Torchwood blacks just like everyone else, except she and Rose appeared to prefer the leggings. She had light brown hair down to her mid back, and never took her sunglasses off. She claimed they were prescription, but they were so dark you couldn’t even really see her eyes. She and Owen usually clashed the hardest, because they were two very strong personalities. She shook her head at him, muttering under her breath and ignoring the pleading look Ianto shot her. He was always trying to avoid a confrontation between the two of them.  
  
  
“I receive the goldenrod, Dad receives the blue, Archives gets the magenta, and _you keep_ _the bloody white copy_.” Rose grit out, tired of having this talk with him for the millionth time. She swore to God, if he wasn’t such a great doctor, he would so be shit canned. For some odd reason, she even liked him. They all did. His personality left a lot to be desired, but he was one of them. They all looked out for each other at the end of the day, even if they occasionally fought like siblings.  
  
  
Owen hated being interrupted while he was doing his work, and hated even more being wrong. So his next comment came out as a sarcastic pondering. “You know, I’m _shocked_ you didn’t receive my magenta copy with the last case, Rose.” He glanced up from stitching Mr. Sir to stare her in the eyes.  
  
  
“Why is that, Owen?” she sighed in exasperation, finishing checking off that all the equipment was in place for their mission later on tonight. Her dad was counting on her to be home by dinner, because her mum was becoming quite hormonal of late, and as such, it was easier to have another woman around rather than the ‘bastard who preggered her up’. Rose didn’t want to have to tell them, but she’d just put her down payment on a flat and signed the lease. She was leaving their house before that baby came come hell or high water, because once Anthony was born she knew it would make it harder to go.  
  
  
“I gave it to John, of course. I knew he’d see you before I did, so I handed it to him. I think he said something about saving it for you!” His tone was almost singsong, and Tosh closed her eyes and grit her teeth at the computer. Ianto gave Owen a look, as though he was shocked to near devastation at the way he was acting. Rose sighed in irritation, not taking note of the way her other team members were staring at the medic. “Owen, for Christ’s sake! It is not John’s job to deal with your paperwork! You take advantage of his mercy, you do!” she muttered under her breath about people who couldn’t follow orders if their lives depended on it, and shook her head.  
  


“Without all of the paperwork in line, there’s no way we’ll have an all systems go for tonight. I’ll run up and fetch your page from John, but I _mean it_ , Owen. Start filing properly or I’m putting you on leave.”  
  
  
She headed to the lifts, and as soon as the doors closed, Owen made “Cuckoo, cuckoo!” noises.  
  
  
Tosh spoke up first. “What is your _problem_ , Owen?” she was so disgusted with his behavior, she couldn’t even believe it. True, Rose was a bit... unique, but she was a great team leader and always took care of them. “So she doesn’t remember some guy’s name or occasionally forgets that someone doesn’t work here! She’s the director’s daughter, she’s met so many employees it must be difficult to keep them all straight. You can’t mock her for that...”  
  
  
Ruby gave Owen an unforgiving stare from behind her aviators. “His problem is that he is an absolute horse’s arse.”  
  
  
Ianto sighed, giving up in an instant. he was impeccably dressed, as usual, and brushed off invisible flecks of dust from his vest. He really cared about other people, especially the people on this team. He understood Rose had her issues, but when it came down to it, her issues didn’t ever interfere with missions or her capabilities at work. But her issue was not forgetting someone’s name, in Ianto’s opinion, as much as it was a poor attempt at lying. Owen had dropped many hints before that he thought that Rose was sleeping with the Archives Keeper, and that was the source of his mocking comment. Ianto found it to be exceptionally distasteful and rude. But even if she was, if she chose to hide it, that was her decision, her privacy. Working at Torchwood was enough to make anyone just a little bit barmy, at any rate, let alone being Director Tyler’s daughter and feeling like she had something to prove. He pinched the bridge of his nose. They at least had Rose as their team leader, instead of someone vile like Alexis, and Owen should be more grateful.  
  
  
“Owen, seriously. If she is having.... a relationship.... then that is her business. Don’t muck it up by being this way. Nobody mocks you for your obsessive narcissism.” Ianto murmured, picking an invisible thread off his shirt.  
  
  
Ruby snorted, pulling on her red leather jacket. Tosh stared at her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an explanation, but the former UNIT member paid her no mind. Owen looked offended. “First, I _will_ mock her for it because bopping that old geezer is fucking gross, and..... nobody what?! That’s _bullshit_ , you lot _always_ mock me for it! Especially _you_!” he shot Ruby an accusational glare, which she didn’t even dignify, loading her gun belt.  
  
  
“Old geezer....” murmured Tosh, whose face changed to shock as everything added up in her mind.  
  
  
“Kind of fun when every part of your brain starts working together to come to a conclusion, eh?” Ruby jibed her lightly, smirking at Tosh’s blush.  
  
  
“That brings up another thing. Why do you always fight with Ruby anyhow? You fight like an old married couple. Just ask each other out, already!” Ianto joked, trying to lighten the mood further.  
  
  
Owen glared at Ruby, who gave him her most unkind sharksmile she could manage. “Because I’m out of his league,” she responded, coolly.  
  
  
“ _Excuse you_?!” Owen damn near shrilled his words, shocked to his core about them. It wasn’t that he liked his teammate, it was just the insult that he was somehow inadequate.  
  
  
“You heard me,” she murmured on a sigh, as though having to explain herself was a burden in and of itself. “I’m out of your league. So far out of your league in fact, that your league could _explode_ ,” she made an explosion gesture with her hands, to further emphasize her point, “and I wouldn’t hear the sound for the next five days.”  
  
  
Owen was lost for words. This had never happened to him before. He didn’t like it one bit. The other members were so amused, and Owen was so offended, that their previous subject of Rose’s oddness was completely forgotten.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
In the lift, Rose had been unable to explain her nerves. For some reason, that conversation had bothered her. It shouldn’t have, but it felt like something was under threat. It wasn’t, of course. But, eugh. She didn’t like Owen speaking to John. Owen was a rude twat, he’d said so himself. Why would he try to talk to John? Why would John let him?? Why was she so overprotective of John? He was a thirty year old man, he was fully capable of taking care of himself, she didn’t know what her issue was. But for some reason, she felt scared. Unnerved. Was it the mission that was bothering her, too? She heard a chuckle next to her, right when her stomach began to twist in knots. Christ, when had this life become tap dancing on a razor-- wait, laughter? Tutting? She turned to her right as she saw Mopsy, who murmured, “Ignoring me, Tyler? So cruel.”  
  
  
“Mopsy! You gave me a fright! ....How are you in here? I don’t remember it stopping on any floor....”  
  
  
“I was already in the _lift_ , Tyler. I was heading to R&D but you know the lifts are programmed so the Hub has priority.”  
  
  
Yes, she did know that, didn’t she? She knew that. He was prattling on now, about research he was doing with his group, and she inhaled deeply. She felt at total ease, and then the dinging of the lift making it to the Archives reached her ears. John had told her that Owen had left his file with the Recordskeeper. She left the lift, and headed down into Archives, muttering about what a sod Owen could really be, sliding her ID card and gaining entrance.  
  
  
“Daffyd, are you about?” She called out, the silence of such a large, metal room filled with shelves of files made the ticking noise of her stopwatch so loud. She could hear her wristwatch, her ring watch... _tick tock tick tock tick tock_ and she didn’t know where the hell the old man was. “Daffyd? Dave? Are you here?” she heard shuffling from a few feet in front of her, and it made her blink, eyes wide. A voice spoke to her, calling her back. An adult woman’s voice, a gentle voice. “Rose, you’ve gone someplace else again. We can’t make the most of our session if you cease speaking to me and just zone out.”  
  
  
The entire Archives room disappeared, and she found herself looking up at a beautiful woman, mid thirties, hair done back in a casual, but professional bun. She was wearing an elegant grey pantsuit, sitting in a chair right beside where Rose was sitting on a divan. Shrink couch. Rose wrinkled her nose as she saw the garish, burgundy leather thing. She was in a pair of stylishly worn out jeans, a nice white shirt, and a white blazer that had rolled up sleeves and buttoned at just below her elbows. She didn’t remember wearing that this morning. She remembered having her hair pulled up, not down. When did she buy those nude flats? She didn’t remember them.... She glanced up, but looked beyond the woman, trying to figure out where she was. She was in a shrink’s office, but _why_? She couldn’t think of why. She couldn’t hear any ticking from the woman’s clock she had in the room. She didn’t like that, clocks making no noise. It was unnatural. She heard the ticking from her pocketwatch, and reached for it’s usual spot, but instead stopped, feeling heaviness of it around her neck. She looked up at the woman in front of her, and wanted to open the watch, but something in her mind told her not to. She didn’t know what was in the watch, but she could almost hear Mopsy’s Manchester lilt on the gentle breeze from the ceiling fan, floating across the room to her. _Don’t open the watch, Rose... don’t open it. It would be bad..._  
  
  
She believed him, instantly. Mopsy knew _everything._  
  
  
“Why am I here....” She murmured, less a question than a whimper. She didn’t remember being here, it was scaring her.  
  
  
“Let’s start with something a bit less daunting, shall we, Miss Tyler? May I call you Rose...?”  
  
  
“I’d rather,” Rose murmured. “But for some reason, I don’t think you’re here to give me good news....”  
  
  
The woman deflected the statement with an elegant flick of her hand, as though she could bat it away. She spoke again, asking Rose a question. “Do you know who I am, Rose?”  
  
  
Rose looked toward the desk behind her, but the nameplate wasn’t facing out. She looked along the walls, trying to figure out if she could see anything, a degree, something with a name. The degrees were on the wall, all right, but behind the woman’s desk. They were so hard to read from this angle.  
  
  
“Try to remember on your own, Rose,” She said, gently.  
  
  
Rose tried, she really did. She just couldn’t. “I.... I can’t,” she whispered.  
  
  
“I’m Julie Bowers. I’d like to give you my full title, but I’ve been advised that there is a certain set of words that cause psychological regression in you,” she murmured, carefully. “Just know I have my degree, and am qualified to treat you.”  
  
  
Rose wanted to be grateful. Julie. The name matched nothing, she felt like the past few hours were a blur. How many.... wait, _treated_?! She felt panicked. “How.... how many....” she was most panicked about that. She kept such constant count, she counted in her head all the time, every single tick, every single tock. 86,400 seconds in a day, 1,440 minutes, 12 hours. She counted all of them, adjusting for them each time she slept. How many hours had she lost? How many minutes? “How many hours did I lose? My seconds.... my minutes.... where are they?” She felt robbed.  
  
  
Julie smiled, gently. “Time is very important to you, isn’t it Rose?”  
  
  
Rose nodded, slowly. She was staring at the clock as though it could answer her, but it didn’t matter how much she counted now, her count was off.  
  
  
“Rose, I want you to tell me the last thing you remember.”  
  
  
“.......I was going to see Daffyd.”  
  
  
“Davith??” Julie mispronounced the Welshman’s name only slightly.  
  
  
“Recordskeeper.... I couldn’t find him,” she stated, plainly.  
  
  
“You and Daffyd are friends.” Julie took note of this, calmly, writing on a pad of paper in a leather, professional binder.  
  
  
“What are ya writin’?” Rose asked, suddenly, as a trickle of fear ran down her spine.  
  
  
“Don’t worry,” Julie placated, calmly. “I’m a psychiatrist, I’m just jotting down notes. For instance, I just wrote that you and Daffyd were friends. That’s all. Nothing bad.”  
  
  
Rose felt relieved at that. “What is this about? Why can’t I remember what happened?”  
  
  
“I’m going to have you slowly come to terms with this,” Julie murmured, softly. She was being as caring as she could. “Do you remember preparing for the mission you had....? Your most recent one?”  
  
  
Rose nodded slowly, still trying to come to terms with this. She had lost time, and apparently, something traumatic had happened to her. She sucked in her breath, she was used to strange things happening, she had been since she changed from being a 19 year old shopgirl. She kept telling herself that she shouldn’t react, not until she knew what happened. She needed to save her feelings for when her memory came back. She took a few deep breaths, and then noticed Julie was waiting to be filled in. “I.... Owen was acting like an arse.... he misfiled some important paperwork.... it’s his fourth time doing that... I had to go and retrieve it.”  
  
  
Julie nodded, writing down things after Rose spoke, on her fancy paper, and upon finishing, asked, “Do you remember what happened after you sought out the Recordskeeper, Daffyd?”  
  
  
Rose opened her mouth, and then frowned. “I..... I went back downstairs.... I told Owen to refile it later.... I said I’d take the heat this time, but he needed to be more responsible or I’d sack him this time, I swore it. .....I didn’t mean it, though. I’d never sack him. He’s like family, he is.”  
  
  
Julie continued writing, and murmured “So Owen is often of a surly disposition, then?”  
  
  
Rose nodded the affirmative. “He’s a self-admitted right twat.”  
  
  
Julie choked, for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Can you tell me what happened when you were on your way to the mission?”  
  
  
Rose stared down at her pocketwatch, still not opening it. She refused to, but she heard the comforting _tick tock tick tock_ and she counted as usual. She began to speak.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
“Oh would the two of you give it a rest, already?!” Sandra complained, listening to the row coming from Owen and Ruby. Well, it was mostly Owen, Rose’s memory served. Ruby was calmly responding, while Owen was losing his mind, rapidly. He just could not believe that a woman would treat him that way. He fancied himself like Jack Harkness but in all reality he was nowhere near that calibre. He scratched his fingers through his black hair, the insult was too much to bear.  
  
  
“I _am too_ good looking!” Owen protested. What was wrong with him? Slightly tanned skin, dark eyes, medium height.... he wasn’t bad looking at all! He was quite fit!  
  
  
“I told you, of course you’re good looking, _to you_. I don’t have to share that opinion. Looks are subjective, you do nothing for me.” Ruby rolled her eyes, but no one else could see it through the aviators she constantly donned. She pulled her cinnamon brown locks into a tight bun, pursing her lips in the mirror.  
  
  
“..... I turn down women left and right!!!!”  
  
  
“Your women _are_ your left and right, Owen.” Ruby muttered in an unimpressed tone, picking at an invisible thread on her jacket. Owen looked like his head was about to explode.  
  
  
“You’re just in a snit because you know I’m much better at my job than you are!” the medical officer snarled, his sexual prowess obviously not winning any battles. Perhaps his career could. He had been chosen for his talent, had been top in his class. Now, there was this woman he wanted to strangle. Or snog. ........Wait what? No no no no no. Strangle.  
  
  
“Owen.... don’t write a check with your mouth you can’t cash with your arse. Now shut it and concentrate,” Ruby muttered, looking for all the world like she was completely unaffected by the entire exchange. That made Owen more furious. She didn’t even have the decency to be angry. Not even affected by him _at all_. He couldn’t stand it.  
  
  
“Harper, Storm, would the two of you _take your love outside_?!!?” Rose snapped, unable to concentrate on mapping the interior for recon. Ruby glanced up from her cell phone, one elegant eyebrow raised in question. Rose never called her by her last name. Ruby reached over, and gently squeezed Rose’s shoulder, calming her down almost instantly. Rose blinked a bit, and scanned the blueprints on the screen, before finishing mapping out their plans. When they finally exited the van and began to suit up with their bulletproof vests and weaponry, Owen stomped right behind Ruby, watching her calmly strapping her guns on herself.  
  
  
“I could _never_ love a soulless bitch like you.” He sneered, moving next to her and grabbing his favorite gun.  
  
  
“You’ll never have the opportunity.” she deadpanned, stopping as she was completely ready, and turning to look at him, the streetlight glinting in her aviators. “And I finish first. _Again_.” with that she turned heel and moved to the rest of the group who were receiving orders and earwigs. Rose moved next to Owen to strap her own weapons -- all blades. Katana, two machetes, daggers. Rose was well known for refusing to use guns. She didn’t feel they were fair. She used blades because they reminded her of the Doctor.... her nerdy little Errol Flynn. But her mind wasn’t on that now, it was on the mission.  
  
  
“You really need to let this go, Owen,” she advised, calmly. “You just keep letting her get your goat, and it’s getting pathetic to watch.”  
  
  
_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._  
  
Rose was behind the set of gunmen, the Torchwood agents who were clearing level one. She stayed back wisely, watching as Ruby and Sandra kept their heavy artillery at the ready to clear the floor. The weapons resembled sniper rifles, but shot a thick laser light, which would stun the intended target and send them to the floor, unconscious, instantly. Ruby was nodding at the sound of Tosh’s voice over the comm, informing each member of the team when rooms needed to be cleared. So far, not a hostile in sight. This was worrying. Sandra peeked her burgundy coif out of a room, looking Rose dead in the eye, and making some military hand signals.  
  
  
_Room is clear. Reason to be suspicious._  
  
  
Rose looked at another team member, he was from an extra squad. Michael was his name. Sandy blonde hair, and a haunted look in his brown eyes, all the time. His mocha colored skin was brought out even more by the silver blade he held. He was another agent who preferred the sword to a gun. She held him in such respect for that, such high respect. He understood, he got it. He was the one who had given her the protective bracers that were on her wrists right now, looking like something out of a steampunk novel. Brown leather, gold decoration. They hid retractable blades. She loved them, feeling like she was some sort of assassin of old with them on. She held up one wrist, nodding at him in thanks and salute. He nodded back, solemnly. It was their silent communication that kept her nerves down.  
  
  
Ruby’s soft murmur through the commlink made all of their heads turn toward the entrance. “Level one is clear, Boss. I don’t like it. The rooms are clear, the machines are off, but they’re warm. I think they were expecting this. We might be looking at an ambush. What do you want to do?”  
  
  
Rose frowned. It wasn’t her call, and she looked up at the head of the mission, Joseph. He seemed to be thinking for a moment, and she shook her head at him. “Suggest we pull out for now, corral a bigger squad. We don’t know their arms.” Rose murmured, but Joseph disagreed. “No need to pull out. We’re moving forward, and that includes you, Tyler. Let’s go back your daddy proud, huh?” He spoke in such a chipper voice. It was hard to begrudge him for wanting this victory, but Rose still could. Her team’s lives were important. Even Owen’s. Rose sighed, she had her orders. She went in with the next crew while Ruby and Sandra were taking on level two.  
  
  
“Be careful,” she murmured, “I want us all available tonight for the Pub Quiz.”  
  
  
She could almost feel Sandra’s smile. “I always am available to whip your arse, Miss Tyler.” she chuckled softly, finishing the ascension of the stairs.  
  
  
_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick......_  
  


Rose looked around, the walls seeming to melt around her as she was back in the office. She was speaking to Julie. She looked down at her hands, holding onto her pocketwatch tightly, as though it held her entire life force in it. She frowned as her phone chimed, again. She pulled her phone out, and smiled a bit. Mopsy. She read the text, calmly. _How about we go clock shopping again? Devereaux’s has brand new stock, from Vienna!_ She smiled at the text, and set her phone back in her pocket.  
  
  
“Did you receive an SMS....?” Julie questioned in confusion. Rose nodded, slowly. “From my friend.” Julie smiled softly, writing that down. “Will you tell me what happened when you came into contact with the hostiles?”  
  
  
Rose looked at the clock again. It had been over two hours at this appointment. She hated this shit. She would much rather be shopping with Mopsy. Buying a brand new grandfather clock. She needed them. She sighed. “We made it to the second floor, and it was so quiet..... it was eerily quiet. and the windows were covered in boards. Tosh’s voice was telling us that she saw something on the cameras she had hacked into, something just glancing across the screen....”  
  
  
_Tick. Tock. Tick......_  
  
  
Rose was looking around the room she’d entered right behind Ruby, who was checking the corners. There were boards on the windows, and the little bit of streetlight that came through showed the dust particles flying in the air. There were linens on the floor that had been used to cover the decrepit machines.... or machines that should be decrepit. These machines were far too advanced to be from this time or planet. They were warm. Rose had a knot in her stomach, and moved to tell Joseph over the comm more firmly that they should just _leave_ , when the first explosion hit. Rose ran to the sound.  
  
  
Rose froze in the middle of her stride, seeing both things happening at once....She could hear the explosions set off by the hostile aliens that were in the warehouse, see members of her team flying backwards. Rose was running as fast as she could, trying to get to Sandra, who was trapped under a piece of the roof. Running with all of the particles in the air, Rose could almost taste burnt skin. Ruby’s voice over the commlink told her that Owen had been injured while trying to med-evac Giulia, a member of Joseph’s team. She almost made it to Sandra, calling her name, but time seemed to slow down. The explosions seemed almost muted, when she saw the next large, metal ball roll over right in front of Sandra, who was choking out that Rose should leave her. Rose’s fingers had barely brushed hers when the ball exploded. The force sent Rose backward, nearly three metres, and she bounced once, skidding along the wooden floor. Her ears were ringing, and her life felt much the same. She was so stunned, slowly bracing herself up on her side, by one elbow, looking at the spot that Sandra had been. The body that was there was burnt up, bloodied beyond repair.... Rose was blinded by tears and ash. It felt like the ash was everywhere, in her eyes, her nose, her mouth.... she felt vibrations under her body, people running, gunfire in the air, the metal balls rolling.  
  
  
She got up, gimping hard, struggling for balance but listening not only to her instincts but also to her training. She trusted her training, she trusted her parallel.... no, just her dad. She trusted her dad, who had overseen a lot of her training. She was at a severe disadvantage, injured, pain lancing up the sides of her leg, and she definitely had a sprained ankle. Was that shrapnel in her leg? She didn’t let herself consider it, just let her mind move. She saw a flash to her right, a hostile who was coming at her. She moved her hands, the reflexes fluid and natural, sending the retractable blade out. Her hand flashed, and a green substance that passed for it’s blood sprayed across the air. She couldn’t hear as well, but she allowed her other senses to take over, her adrenaline making her forget the pain in her leg. She would get her team the hell out of this killzone. They had tried to be kind, calling out to them initially, telling them to stand down and cooperate with Torchwood. The hostiles had responded with explosions of violence.  
  
  
No second chances, she thought to herself as she clicked her blade back into her wrist, pulling her twin machetes out of their hilts on her back, glaring like a goddess of vengeance, seeing through the dust that came off the ground. She charged, moving to protect the others, and get them out. She would worry about the corpses later, and getting them proper funerals. But the hostiles had to experience loss as well.  
  
  
No second chances. She was that kind of woman.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Julie continued writing her notes, smiling at the progress that Rose had made, even though it was a sad smile. Rose had been traumatized to the point of being in shock for the past 72 hours. She had been existing in that state, in a robotic state, and had been brought to Julie by her father in order to work her out of it. Rose had been there for six hours, and had only begun speaking around two hours ago. Rose continued telling her about taking down some of the hostiles, her team managing the rest, and them making it out of the warehouse. Julie knew that Rose had not had the presence of mind to make it back for body retrieval, she’d fallen into shock before then, along with a few other members of the team.  
  
  
“Please, tell me the last thing you remember, Rose,” she murmured, placatingly. Rose was starting to get more visibly shaken, and they couldn’t afford a regression when she’d made so much progress. Rose was a strong woman, she’d noted. Her mind was set for survival, no matter what it had to do to convince her to survive. This was found in many soldiers, but Julie wondered what other kind of experiences she must have had before entering Torchwood to make her that way.  
  
  
“I went out last, after everyone else did.... and it was daylight..... it had the nerve to be daylight out.... like the sun rose without us.... I was blinded by my own tears... I could hardly see.... I was....” overcome with emotion. Unable to process what had happened. In need of anything.... “I saw John.... I screamed his name, and he rushed to me, holding onto me. He held my face in his hands, and he was calling to me, but.... I couldn’t hear very well....”  
  
  
Julie nodded at that, blinking a bit. She’d read the report, and knew about Rose’s encounter. Something about the way Rose spoke suddenly made her head snap up. “What was that...?” Julie murmured, writing something down.  
  
  
“I said he felt so warm..... but John is never warm. He’s always cold, you see.... cold hands, warm hearts..... but, he was so warm... and his face wavered.” It really had. As though he hadn’t been himself. Julie frowned a bit, and instantly went into Rose’s file, looking through it. She had seen the entire report, and raised an eyebrow. “Rose, don’t you mean Geoffrey?”  
  
  
Rose blinked a bit, shaking her head. “Geoffrey? Why would I mean Geoffrey?”  
  
  
“Geoffrey is the name of the man who you ran to, after you made it out of the warehouse.” Julie murmured.  
  
  
“No,” she said, firmly. “No, I would know Mopsy _anywhere_. It was John. He’s my best mate. He’s the only..... he.... it was him.” She nodded quickly, and Julie shook her head, softly.  
  
  
“What does John look like, Rose?” she questioned, curiously. When Rose described him, Julie showed her a picture of an Asian man, medium height and thin build, cropped hair and soft black eyes. Rose stared at the image as though she had never seen it before. Did she know who that was? “Who is that.....?”  
  
  
“Rose, this is Geoffrey. He is the one who you ran to.”  
  
  
Rose became upset, and felt her stomach knotting. She didn’t want this conversation. She didn’t want to hear it. She heard her phone chime, and looked down at it, clicking the screen on. It was Mopsy!  
  
  
_Let’s have dinner. Chips?_  
  
  
She smiled at the text, he always knew what to say. Julie asked her how she’d met Mopsy, and Rose told the tale calmly, her phone away, playing with the watch again. Her words stood out to Julie like giant warning bells, but the last thing she’d said made Julie buzz through Rose’s file again. She’d said that John was her flatmate, renting with her. “Is John on the lease?” Julie asked, raising an eyebrow. Rose was in Torchwood flats, so she had a copy of her lease in her file.  
  
  
“Of course he’s on the lease. He’s so big on little things like that,” she said plainly, looking at Julie. What was this woman getting at? Her tone was clipped, she felt so defensive. Why was she so tense??  
  
  
“Rose.... there is only one name on this lease. Yours,” Julie said, handing her the paperwork. “There is a single occupant in the one bedroom flat. You,” she continued, now knowing the problem. It was one she hadn’t seen for a while. Rose’s mind was being a survivalist, deciding that she was unable to handle something, something to which Julie was unaware of, so it gave it back to her. “When you’re upset, does John randomly appear?” her voice lilted a bit at the end, trying so hard not to upset this girl, who had already come in in a fragile state.  
  
  
“I.... of course he does, we’re best mates,” Rose insisted, her voice becoming even more angry. all of a sudden, her phone chimed again. She looked down. Mopsy again. He was being awful persistent....  
  
  
_I’ve made a paperclip chain necklace for myself, and a rubber band ball for you.... rubber band balls are cool._  
  
  
Rose smiled at it, her system calming. But Julie moved forward, taking the calm away. “Has anyone else ever spoken to John in front of you? Does he speak about his other friends? Do the two of you hang with other people?”  
  
  
Rose was about to vent her spleen on this woman for being ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, when Julie drove the point home. “Rose, I’d like you to do me a favor. Will you?”  
  
  
Rose nodded. If it got her off of her back....  
  
  
“Open your phone.”  
  
  
Rose  unlocked the screen. She looked back up to Julie for further instructions. Her knots in her stomach were insane.  
  


“Please, open your messaging inbox.”  
  
  
Oh god, she didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want this. Her fingers moved of their own accord, and she clicked the inbox.  
  
  
“Tell me what is in the inbox?”  
  
  
Rose looked down at it, and suddenly let out a choked noise. _Messages (0)._ No, no no no.... she and Mopsy always texted! Where had her texts gone?! Her eyes watered as she came to a realization..... all of their conversations..... she felt like she was being walked through her own memories by force, taking note of the fact that no one else had seemed to speak to Mopsy..... ever.... not even Gertrude..... she remembered glancing into the reflection on her screen. Seeing Mopsy walking up.... then he morphed.... into.... Beth?! ......herself and Mopsy moving into her new flat..... he lived out of those boxes, he never unpacked.... going clock shopping with him, all of a sudden the stares that the people at Devereaux’s made at her were noticeable..... the way he told her the entire history of every single antique they’d seen.... it hadn’t been him.... she’d been reading the history on a placard and heard his voice in her head. Sitting in Hyde Park, giggling with him and texting..... she’d known Mopsy for six months.... she clicked the next button, Drafts. _Drafts (9999)_ and she clicked the first one. From her to Mopsy. The next was from Mopsy to her. Oh God no.  Please no. Not the only person who had helped her begin to feel human again. Not the only person who she felt like she actually had, not the only person who made her feel safe, secure, accepted..... not judged.... not rushed..... no please. Please.  
  
  
She hadn’t realized she’d said all of that out loud, and she couldn’t hear Julie trying to calm her. Mopsy holding her face in his hands after the warehouse morphed into Geoffrey’s face, and his words came to her. “Miss Tyler, it’s all right. You’re out of there! Medic!” She felt her insides twist on themselves, as a lone tear slid down her cheek. All of a sudden a tidal wave of blackness broke over her head, and her entire world was completely obliterated... just for a few minutes. But it was long enough. She had gone round the bend, she knew it. She’d been on a slippery slope, and no one had known well enough to know how to help her, if it was at all possible to be helped. She got up and rushed out, ignoring Julie’s calls of her name, trying to plead with her to return. The darkness of her mind and the darkness in that room was just too much. The one person keeping her darkest of thoughts at bay didn’t exist. She went the only place she could.

* * *

  
  
  
Rose was in her flat, and she had completely broken down. Her entire world was shattered, she didn’t know what to do. The little supports she had built for herself, they were all gone. She had begun to build a life for herself, and that just didn’t fucking matter anymore, because she was absolutely spare and had spent time talking to herself. Six months of time. She had spent twelve months driving her family spare as well. They had just wanted to move on from Canary Wharf and enter smoothly into their new life, and there she had been -- a bitter reminder. A child her mother had had with another version of her father. Her inability to forget her universe, her love of the Doctor.... oh God. She loved him so much, and she knew that it was possible to love someone for the rest of your life, she’d seen her mother do it for her father’s memory.... but the Doctor wasn’t dead, not to her knowledge -- just.... could never see her again. Her family was moving on. Her mum had had her little brother a little bit ago.... her tears slid down her face. They were better off without her.  
  
  
“They aren’t....”  
  
  
“Shut it Mopsy, you aren’t bloody _real_ ,” she snapped, reaching into a drawer and pulling out the gun her father had left for her, in case of emergency. Perfect. This would be quick. Cyanide pills, a slit alongside the veins of the arm, maybe even a bad half hour standing on a roof.... she’d considered them all. Even jumping off the bridge, right into the Thames. It would have been poetic. If she wasn’t so afraid of being caught, she would definitely make it even more poetic, and go to the store room in the Parallel Henrik’s. But God, doing it someplace public, she may as well put the gun back in the fucking drawer for all the good it would do. Some do-gooder would find her and save her life.  
  
  
She put the gun in her mouth, eyes closed, ignoring Mopsy’s worried noise he made in his throat. “Please..... Please....”  
  
  
Rose could taste it. The revolver was cold and greasy, the metallic taste an unpleasant twinge when mixed with her fillings. Her finger was on the trigger, hand shaking. Her thoughts swarmed around how much better off her family would be without her, how her teammates must have been so burdened by her insanity, how that was definitely the reason why she had no one else but Daffyd and her own imagination as her friends..... friends.... were they even _friends_?! Oh God.... but the Doctor.... those thoughts were the worst of all. The Doctor, and Jack..... and Mickey..... they would be so severely disappointed in her.... she closed her eyes, and inhaled.  
  
  
“Stop thinking of only the bad times. There were good times, Rose Tyler. There were so many good times. Do you remember when you bought the banana jam....?”  
  
  
_Shut up, brain, shut up, can’t you let me die in peace?!_ She thought to herself. But she couldn’t fight the memory. The Doctor had been so excited to crack open the banana confection, and he’d begun to eat it.... with his _fingers_. Rose had stepped out of her kitchen, and had been shocked. It was unfair, really. He was so beautiful, and she loved him..... and now he was sucking on his fingers in an unintentionally sensual way. She’d gasped out loud, making him look up at her, index and middle finger in his mouth, cognac eyes wide. “Roab!” he’d said, mouth full.  
  
“Doctor.... what _are_ you even doing?! That’s disgusting, and uncouth!”  
  
  
“......Rose, this is _my_ jar of jam. You gave it to me, so it’s _mine_. I’m _allowed_ to do this.”  
  
  
“Doctor, _nobody_ should be allowed to do that.”  
  
  
“But _Rose_! Rose, it’s _mine_.” he whinged.  
  
  
“How _old_ are you, Doctor?” she’d teased, making him respond to her through his fingers again, so she couldn’t hear his age for certain.  
  
  
Rose let out a choked sob, able to see Mopsy sitting on her nightstand, crosslegged. She shook her head. No, no that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make her let this go. She needed to get rid of this darkness, there was no way out of this. There were parts of this universe that she could almost feel pulling at her, telling her to make. this. happen. She could feel Mopsy appear right next to her, could feel his presence right next to her. He looked at her, and she knew he wouldn’t let her do it.  
  
  
“You’re living the one adventure--”  
  
  
“Fuck your adventure!” She shouted at him, pulling the gun from her mouth, angrily. She kept it on her, holding it against her. She just couldn’t..... “I don’t want it.... I don’t.... _that was what you wanted for me_. Because you thought that I wanted it, but I don’t, I haven’t wanted it since I told you it was better with two! I was never ready to turn back, it was always you looking backwards for me, why?!” her only response was him looking down. Because he didn’t know the answer. He didn’t know the answer because she didn’t know it. Or maybe she did, and just didn’t want to hear it.  
  
  
“I...... I’m speaking to imaginary people.... not even..... not even aliens that people think are imaginary, actual imaginary..... I’ve gone....” she moved the gun against her temple, and closed her eyes. She didn’t need to explain to herself what she already knew. She was done. She was living in an imaginary realm inside of her head, obviously, and if that was what she needed to survive, no wonder she was burdenous. She counted, softly. Just as she inhaled, she swore she felt Mopsy behind her, breath on her ear.  
  
  
“What you’re imagining right now.... that world you control? The world that gives you control, the world where I exist..... that world can be as real as any pain....” he whispered.  
  


Something in her broke at that, and she found herself putting the gun back in the drawer, just in time for the two hundred and thirteen clocks in her flat to chime the changing of her hour. She should have known she would fail, she chided herself softly. A successful suicide would have demanded good organization and a cool head.... ironically, both of which are usually incompatible with a suicidal state of mind. Rose laid on the floor that night, in the middle of her flat, with Mopsy lying with her. She allowed the pain and the darkness to permeate her being, because fighting it had done nothing.  
  


“It’s not as though it’s my _self_ that I want to kill....” she murmured, and Mopsy made a noise of curiosity -- a deep one in the back of his throat. “It’s just part of myself I want to kill.... I want to kill the part of myself that wants to kill herself. I want to kill the part of myself that makes me view the entire world as sharp and frightening..... because right now everything is sharp, and menacing..... and I can’t handle this slow path shit....” she breathed. But she made no move to leave her spot. Mopsy nodded slowly, in understanding. She was looking at him, face resting against the carpet, their hands linked. They were L shaped, like her desk. He was staring at her, green orbs meeting soft brown.  
  
  
The clocks around them ticked and tocked with every passing instant, and she counted all of them.  
  


* * *

  
  
_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._  
  
  
Rose scowled, trying to think. She needed out of here in the worst way, but they were so smart. Coming here, to the Dark Hotel, as it was called, you didn’t get to contact the outside. The world went on without you, you were locked away. There was no one else she had a connection with outside of the Doctor and his TARDIS, but they were so constantly in motion that even if she had the ability to tap into Bad Wolf, she didn’t know if she could lock onto them in order to try and speak to them. The TARDIS was so protected..... it just wouldn’t work.... who else did she have a connection with?! Who else could she turn to....?  
  
  
Mopsy would not stop telling her to eat, even though she knew she had already made the damned agreement, even though she had the stupid calendar. She’d promised, one meal a day. Except for Sunday, she didn’t have to eat on Sunday. It was the agreement she and Doris had made. But she knew she didn’t want to deal with Doris and deal with her appointment today as well..... but the sound of Mopsy’s whinging at her to survive.... it was driving her more spare than she already was. She finally gave in to her feelings, and vented her spleen a bit at him. “Tyler, I really think you should eat, I don’t want her to punish you, and you need your strength. I know you think they are poisoned, but you have no other means of sustenance..... Tyler please. Just eat.”  
  


“Stop it, stop it, stop it! You always do this, Mopsy, you always try and make me eat, even though you know I have my reasons! It isn’t just the poison, and you know it! It’s so important, what if it happens, what if it’s finally here?! My opportunity passes because I’m _full_?! You’re always harping on me, _always_! Shut it! Button it up!” she shouted, her voice going shrill.  
  
  
Mopsy’s shoulders slumped, and he stood against the wall. He was defeated. He murmured “Rose Tyler.... I exist because you created me, just as you exist because you created yourself. I am merely a representation of the Doctor..... I’m him, but different.... and I am here because you want me here. If I upset you so deeply.... then send me away. I come from your mind, so you can kill me just as easily as thinking about it. But if you kill me, don’t delay it out..... if you’re going to kill me, then just do it....” he meant every word. His voice didn’t waver. This wasn’t emotional Mopsy, this was.... she couldn’t explain it. A lone tear streaked down her face.  
  
  
“Miss Tyler!” came the sound of Doris’ voice outside the door, as she rapped on it twice. “Hurry it up with your lunch, you have an appointment with Dr. Chambers in twenty minutes. Is this going to be a difficult day?” the last sentence was a threat, and Doris’ heels clicking on the floor told of her leaving to the next patient’s door.  
  
  
“Kill you.....” Rose murmured in a dead sounding voice. “Why would I do that....?” Before Mopsy could speak again, she finished her thoughts with a finality that made the silence sound echoed. “You’re my only friend........”  
  
  
_Of course_ , she thought to herself suddenly. She was connected with one other.  
  
  
_Jack._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and I know it was dark. It will get a bit darker, but I promise, it is a romance fic, and she will be reunited with the Doctor. This is a Doctor/Rose fic, and while it does have dark themes, I just love writing it.
> 
> So please, read and review, and hopefully you liked it! Each chapter will be long. I like to have a complete arch. 
> 
> Thanks again!


	2. The Shadow of the Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose continues to remember what happened to her before she was placed in the asylum. She is forced to undergo varied treatments, and must finally meet her lead psychiatrist. Who is he? What does he know of the Doctor? Is Rose going to die....? If so, what does River know of it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the follows and favorites! Also, the reviews, you guys are awesome and I blushed. Okay, this chapter sets up my villain, and has a lot of psychological, asylum issues going on. I'm warning you, there is a part where suicide is discussed, there is actual psychological treatments dispersed and discussed, and lives are threatened, people are chased, it is a fairly decent horror chapter. It also fills in some more of Rose's past before entering the asylum, including how she got there in the first place.
> 
> It hints at who Ruby is, and why she's important. Any guesses?
> 
> Rose's outfit in this and the Doctor's outfit are linked on my profile.
> 
> The bracelet in this chapter was borrowed with permission from the lovely Bubblygal92, (from the story Tales from the Vortex ) and she deserves all forms of props for this. Thank you to her, and because of this, this chapter is dedicated completely to her.
> 
> This chapter is, as always, in thanks to skittttlezz's patience, and she should know I lush her.
> 
> Also a huge thank you to Supernena25 for letting me use her name as a planet.
> 
> Thank you lot!

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Existing with an imaginary friend, knowing that your feelings had finally broken, knowing that your entire universe had been taken from you... knowing that something else had been working within, something  _had to be contributing to this_... it was honestly like living within a parallel world while inside of a bloody parallel world. It was bullocks, it was in no way what she'd wanted for herself. None of it. She felt weak and vulnerable, staring out the car window and watching the trees go by, slowly blurring. Jake was driving, and she rested her head against the window, feeling the cold seep in. Mopsy was humming a bit next to her, concerned about her. He always hovered.

Rose had been seeking connection, not certain where to turn for such. She could ask Mopsy, but she thought that maybe she should try another human being. Maybe it might be healthier... but she didn't want to actually reveal herself. She tried going online, trying to use an anonymous, blogging form of social media to express her feelings. She'd done it on an anonymous server, on an anonymous website, with a random username... nothing to identify herself. She'd gotten messages before completely deleting it out of fear of it eventually being tied back to her somehow; of it erasing what comfort she had. Some of the messages had been cruel, encouraging her to harm herself.  _As though she needed their permission._

Though if she was honest, one of the cruel messages had gone into detail and tinged on some of her own worst fears -  _'Ur just a fkin burden to soceity lol. U shud kll urself to spare ur fam hvin to deal w u.'_  - great spelling, arsehole.

The anonymous andy must have had a lot of friends, because after that she'd received an onslaught of messages of varying spelling ability, all telling her that she truly was a mistake, and that she'd be better off dead. The echoing had sent her on a bad half an hour on the roof of the apartment building, contemplating life and arguing with Mopsy about whether she could, should, or was even planning on doing anything rash. By the end of the half hour, she'd found a brand new way to make herself feel better - yelling on a roof. She yelled random things to absolutely no one, and let her feelings be carried on the wind, because in London she was just another random noise in a city filled with neon lights and noise. Mopsy called it healthy release.

 _Tick. Tock._  There went her pocketwatch.

She screamed out loud, at the top of her lungs, and yet she may as well have only been opening her mouth - the construction work on the two buildings near hers completely deafened the world to her... and wasn't that ironic. Not everyone had been as violently cruel as them, though. Others had been gentle, curious. 'How did you become crazy?' What they really wanted to know was if they were secretly crazy as well, if somehow, by reading that post, they would magically catch the crazy or discover they'd always been so. She couldn't answer the  _real_  question, she could only answer the one  _written_. The only thing she could say was that it was easy. It was - slipping into a parallel universe had been easy, if not psychologically destructive. But discovering there were parallel universes within the parallel universe, that had been disorienting. There were so many. Worlds of the insane, the criminal, the dying, the diseased, the hateful, the innocent... these worlds existed alongside the parallel world, and they even resembled it; but they were not it, not even inside of it, really. She had been fooled, herself. She often wondered if there was a world where Alice in Wonderland was actually real. A world where tables could be clocks, faces could be flowers, caterpillars could smoke and mice had High Tea. She felt as though she might have a better grip on the planet if she only had a white rabbit to follow, instead of groping around in the dark, trying to find things that gave her direction, such as  _eat me, drink me,_ or  _off wit 'is 'ead!_

Mopsy shrugged at this. He didn't know what she didn't know.

Bugger.

She began to apply makeup for work, looking at herself in the mirror. She bit her lip, before grabbing some racy crimson lipstick, a color that Shireen would have called Va-va-voom, and the Doctor in all of his leather would have chided her for being Barbarella for wearing. She applied it carefully, while Mopsy watched, eyebrow arched.  _Painting the roses red._

Another interesting concept about living in a parallel universe inside of a parallel universe was that it was invisible to those who had never stepped inside of it, but once inside of it you could easily see the world you'd come from. This made it easy to fool you into thinking you were still inside of that world, it had fooled Rose. But once realized, all of a sudden one could see the world they'd come from like it was behind a veil; still mostly clear, but untouchable. Sometimes it looked huge and menacing, like it did for Rose - everything was sharp and spikey, ready to hurt her. Everything was scary, everything was about the fear of being discovered as someone who had lost themselves even though they knew exactly where they were - oh God, what if they knew? - and she was always seeing the world from her parallel world, looking into the one she'd left behind... scratch that, been forced into after leaving behind her world. Oh well. Every window on Alcatraz had a view of San Francisco.

* * *

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Rose laid back submissively, counting the seconds while her arms were shoved unceremoniously through the straightjacket because she was known for being a fighter, a biter, a scratcher, and even a spitter, depending on who it was who was doing her treatments. She hated her doctor, he was Satan incarnate. She hadn't believed in that until she'd made it into the asylum, also known as the Dark Hotel. They were all guests, see? Guests. It was ludicrous, but it made the paperwork push through, which was the important part. On paper, all of these aliens were simply guests in Torchwood housing, and no one had ever thought to come by and see if it were actually otherwise. As Rose was put into the wheelchair to take her to her appointment, she looked up at Mopsy, who gave her such a sad, helpless glance. He wanted to help her; she wanted to help herself. She felt the strap coming around her torso to keep her in, incase she dared to try and fight. Gods above, she wanted to. But she had no choice her, she had no way of fighting any of this properly - she was so far into the basement of this place, she didn't think there was even a way out. They weren't above ground at all, they were actually deep under Torchwood One in the middle of London, where her father held no authority. But her father didn't even know about how she was being kept - he'd been told she was undercover on a mission, and as such couldn't be allowed to be contacted. She didn't know when they would give the final lie and say she was dead. She used to fear that, fear them killing her off like they did to some of the others in her ward.

_Used to._

"Mopsy," she whispered softly, pulling her imaginary friend's attention to her. As his head jerked, his hair flopped, revealing scared emerald orbs. He was as frightened as she was. "Be with me..." she closed her eyes, not needing to see his nod or hear him say he would be. She knew he would.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

She was stopped by the nurse's station, staring around. She could hear some of the other patients who were watching TV, but they were catatonic - no longer a threat, so they didn't need to be watched as much. It would only be a matter of time, at this point, before they disappeared. The catatonics never stayed long. She was being rolled down the hall again, and she took time to glance around her. This floor was the nice floor, the floor tiles a shade of maroon with loopy designs on them so that they looked like a sixties throwback. The walls were all a shade of heavy cream but the doors were all metal, an unforgiving shade of gray that was a nice change from the dankness of the cells within. It was the most brightness they usually got, especially once the fluorescent lights were shut off for lights out.

Doris was humming softly, that bitch  _would_  enjoy her job. She'd told them on many an occasion that they were no more than a paycheck to her. She was stopped by another room, while Doris chatted up a nurse Rose had never seen before. The sounds of retching from the other room made Rose's stomach tighten. She knew this place, now that she considered it; she felt damn fortunate that she was in here for  _being_  an alien and not for being  _in love_  with one. Although both were true, being a human being who had had sexual relations with an alien got you sent here for 'correction', similar to the way they used to 'correct' gay and lesbian people a long time ago... it was torture, it was disgusting. The poor girl in that room was being given aversion/conversion therapy - she was going through a form of hell that no one deserved. She could hear the psychiatrist talking to the young woman, showing her photos of herself and the alien she had fallen in love with, and knew that with each photo the crank was being turned on her IV. She was being given saline through the IV to keep her full of fluids, but the nausea-inducing drugs were also being pushed through the IV with each new photo, causing the terrible retching noises as she emptied what little was in her stomach until all that was left was dry heaving. Rose closed her eyes against the sobs, and could see Mopsy trying to cover her eyes as well, trying to shield her from the girl's fate while Doris chatted and laughed over some match that had been on the telly over the weekend.

Rose had read the file of a friend of hers who had been sent to the Dark Hotel, right when she'd begun researching into it, trying to find out what was going on under Alexis' direction. She had never trusted her, but finding out about the asylum had been absolutely horrifying. Gemini had been arrested for being in love with a female alien from the Silos galaxy, a lovely orange young woman who loved wearing the color silver and had proven to be nothing but loving to Gemini. Reading the file, she'd read that Gemini had been prescribed aversion/conversion therapy, masturbatory reconditioning, visualization, social skills training, psychoanalytic therapy, and spiritual interventions. This girl likely had the same. Rose was on the move again, thinking to herself that when she finally escaped, blowing this place up would be too good for it.

Doris pushed her down the hall, making a left, and continuing to hum. Rose could hear the echoes suddenly, of the dreaded record player in the psychiatrist's office. The ukelele music became haunting as it bounced off the walls, and Rose's fists clenched in the straightjacket, her nerves on a razor's edge. She didn't even have her pocketwatch, she felt even more lost to the world without the  _sound_. The very sound kept her still on a world that felt like it spun too fast. The door was opened and she was pushed in, the man behind the desk covered by the large, fully opened newspaper in front of him. The music was blaring from the old record player, and Rose felt on the verge of tears already. She tried to steel herself against the inevitable attack, but she knew it wouldn't matter how much fight she presented - the man was a powerful telepath. Fighting would only serve to exhaust her further.

_Tiptoe through the window_

_By the window, that is where I'll be_

_Come tiptoe through the tulips with me_

Rose grit her teeth against the song, as Mopsy covered his ears in protest. The look on his face was disgusted, but he looked so nervous for Rose. She stared around the office - it looked just like a regular doctor's office, with the classy brown leather chairs, the red walls, mahogany bookcases filled with all sorts of books. Important, leather bound books - medical journals, important studies... if Hippocrates was there, she would laugh at the irony. Harm none, her hind foot. She stared at the desk, a gorgeous dark cherry wood desk that had his nameplate on it -  _Dr. J.J. Chambers_. No pictures of family, nothing that made the desk personal in the slightest - his job was his entire life. She remembered meeting him, while she was still working at Torchwood. She hadn't even questioned how he'd known her name, or the fact he'd called her  _Rose Tyler_ , even though no one else was allowed to. She'd joked about whether he was married to his work, the way he'd done nothing but speak seriously about his job. His chuckle had given her a sense of foreboding, but she'd ignored it, continuing to work with him and the team. She looked down at the floor, the non-threatening creamy tile freshly polished. He still hadn't moved, with the exception of sighing in content while reading the newspaper. It was obvious to her, in this moment, that he was enjoying keeping her waiting, worrying, wondering what the hell he was going to put her through. He was the sort to enjoy the power he held, and she could almost feel his smile as it spread across his mouth. She turned and looked at Mopsy, who was staring at Dr. Chambers with a look of mistrust. He wanted to stand in front of her and protect her, but he couldn't.

She stared back down at the ground, her eyes closing.

* * *

"Rose? Have you fallen asleep?"

Who was that? Her eyes opened to a bleary sort of vision before she rapidly blinked it away. She was in a psychiatrist's office...  _Julie's._  Why was she in Julie's office? Her mouth began moving of it's own volition, she was on automatic. Mopsy was across the room, giving Julie a scrutinizing glare... his Oncoming Storm face. Needed to gauge if we could trust her... could we trust her?

"Mopsy says...," Rose began, licking her lips slowly. She wasn't sure how comfortable she was with this - now that she knew that Mopsy wasn't real, that her mind had decided she couldn't live without the Doctor so it had invented him for her, in a perfect way so that he would be there and he wouldn't hurt to look at... the hows or whys eluded her. She didn't question it. But now she was speaking about Mopsy thinking and feeling, because good God,  _he thought and felt_ , he  _did_. She was speaking about him knowing he was imaginary, to a goddamned psychiatrist. "Mopsy says that you're not allowed to tell anyone anything that I say here... he says that you can't tell anyone, even my parents, because I'm an adult and it's confidential."

Julie nodded slowly, not looking surprised to hear her discussing Mopsy at all. She just kept the same gentle look on her face that she always had, resting her fingers across her jawline and pursing her lips a bit. Her eyes were so compassionate, they made Rose  _want_  to talk to her.

"Mopsy is right, Rose," Julie murmured, not getting into the fact that the paperwork she'd given Rose had all of that information on it. She trusted that Rose  _needed_  Mopsy right now, and as soon as she was in a place mentally where she could handle things, Mopsy would become less and less necessary. "Would you like to tell me about what happened after we met last week, Rose? About why you ran out? I am very grateful you chose to come back and visit with me, but I want to hear about what happened. I feel I owe you an apology for my lack of foresight in our last appointment..."

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Mopsy looked at Rose, gauging her reaction before reacting himself. He walked over to Rose, slowly, and sat down on the leather chaise, his thigh resting against hers. It felt cold, and his tweed made noise as it rustled, while he leaned against her. Rose continued staring Julie directly in the eyes, something lost about Rose's eyes... as though they'd never fully focus again. Mopsy leaned against Rose's shoulder, and she could feel his breath against her ear, hear his lilting accent as he whispered into her ear, his hand cupping her ear in order to do so, the back of his hand facing Julie. He whispered softly, never taking his eyes off her psychiatrist, as though he couldn't fully trust her,  _and they couldn't_ , he reminded her, softly.

_We can't trust her, we can only trust each other. You and I, Rose Tyler._

Rose nodded slowly, and spoke to her. "A lot of darkness...," she murmured.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Julie didn't ask for clarification, instead she re-engaged. "Rose... have you done things to injure yourself?" She spoke as gently as she could, but she felt the need to establish the seriousness of this situation. She was worried for the girl's safety as reality had already shown itself to be tenuous where she was concerned.

"...How do you mean?" Rose glanced at the pen she was writing with, Mopsy whispering in her ear to be careful.

_We can only trust each other, Tyler._

"I mean, do you find yourself doing things that cause you pain when you feel stress?"

_Don't tell her anything you wouldn't tell your mother, Tyler._

"I'm not certain I understand," she breathed.

"Honestly," Julie murmured, "It's not even anything as serious as trying to take your life, but anything you find yourself doing that hurts your body. Such as cutting yourself, with-holding food from yourself, wrist banging..."

Rose's head snapped up at the wrist banging comment. "Wrist banging... I thought I'd invented it..." she seemed genuinely surprised, and stared down at her wrists, which both had yellowing from a healing bruise. The yellow was darker on her right, showing she favoured the use of her dominant arm. Her nails were chewed to the quick, something Julie had written in her notes, keeping track of the girl's rising anxiety since she'd figured out that she had made up her best friend. "Sometimes I feel too airy. I feel like I can't hold onto anything... I wonder if I'm even real. I'm afraid, you see... do you think this universe is..."

Julie was watching her carefully while Mopsy frowned. He was nervous for her, she knew it. He wrung his hands before adjusting his bowtie nervously, and seemed to move them a lot as he spoke to her, as though his nerves just couldn't be contained. He was just bursting with mercurial energy, and she was never sure which he was - her own thoughts and feelings, as imaginary friends were wont to be; or if he was something different altogether, something that had taken on its own life.

"Do I think this universe is  _what_ , Rose?"

Rose stared down at her hands.  _Empty, empty, so so empty; empty without your hands in mine. No matter the regeneration, they'll always be a perfect fit..._  Mopsy stopped flailing his hands and set his hand down on her thigh, lacing his fingers through hers and holding onto her hand. She could almost feel the cool, softness of his skin.

"Do you think this universe is trying to be rid of me...?"

She almost felt like she was disappearing, like her time was growing short. She kept counting the ticks and tocks, wondering if she should be counting down instead. If she did, from where should she begin?

* * *

Rose smirked, she couldn't help but to feel quite pleased with herself. The Doctor was a 900 year old alien who had the smarts to back all of that up, but sometimes he wasn't half thick, either. It seemed to just be their luck or his mouth, but for all that he claimed she was jeopardy-friendly, she strongly disagreed, and planned to let him know that this time. He'd gotten himself arrested, here on Supernena, even though he'd claimed to have landed them on a peaceful planet during a time of pure pacifism. Of course, being him, he'd been off by 450 years and had landed them in a time just after a war, the biggest one Supernena had ever known, where rules and guidelines had been set down hard to prevent another war. One rule was that any and all devices that could be used as weapons were strictly forbidden, and got you arrested. Rose smiled at the police woman, a young green humanoid who had bright red hair and reminded Rose of Poison Ivy from Batman.

"Someone is here, Doctor, to see about the rescinding of the orders for your arrest!" came the sound of another officer, from down the hall.

"Finally!" came the manic voice of her bestie.

"We've brought you something to eat in the meantime, here you are." the crinkling of what sounded like a paper bag echoed as she was informed of the rules and signed in.

She happily made it down the hall, keeping as quiet as possible so the Doctor wouldn't realize she was doing so. He probably thought the King had changed his mind about the arrest.  _Fat chance._  Her boots didn't make much noise, and she smiled widely, wearing the same exact outfit that had gotten her called a 'wee naked child' and a 'timerous beastie' as though she knew what the hell  _that was_. Did the Doctor even know, or did he make it up off the cuff? It sounded Scottishy enough. ...Scottishy. Oh Lord, the man with the gob that ate the Universe had her think-rambling!

Speaking of rambling, the Oncoming Babble was sitting on the wooden bench, straddling it really as it had no back, explaining the correct way to corral a nation post-war and why the banning of anything that could be used as a weapon got rid of important inventions like staplers when she made it up to the bars. He was just digging into what definitely now looked and sounded like a brown paper bag, grease marks all along it telling the tale that fast food hadn't changed much just because the star system was different. Was that a philly cheeesesteak? His back was turned to her, and she grinned, inhaling.  _She was going to enjoy this._

"Well, well, well..." she said in a mocking, singsong tone of reproach.

The Doctor instantly winced, looking up as though in pain, and removed his hand from his bag of food. This had not been what he'd wanted at all. He rested his fist on his knee, and head head tilted down, eyes shut. The pained expression was quite glorious.

"Aw man..." he complained, getting up from the bench and leaving his food there, turning to face his companion.

Rose smirked wider, if possible, and put on a falsely pensive look, mouth quivering from trying not to laugh, eyes comically wide, fingers on chin. "My, my, my, my, my...!" she singsonged.

The Doctor frowned, and questioned, "What are  _you_  doing here? I told you to stay with the handmaidens!"

Rose didn't let his pathetic earlier attempt to get her to stay put even bother her. "You know, I'll bet when you imagined us in this situation on this planet, you pictured yourself on the other side of these bars. Jeopardy friendly me and all." She couldn't help the jab, she swore she couldn't.

"Where's the King?" he questioned, ignoring her baiting him in that cavalier way he had.

"Hung up at the moment."

"Where's Lucilia?" Ah, mentioning the head of the handmaidens that he'd left her with, the one who'd pled with the Doctor to marry her and take her from this place, planting a kiss on him for all of his trouble. If he hadn't have flailed his arms so horrified and helplessly, Rose might've been jealous. But instead, she found it amusing how he had actively avoided Lucilia as though he was in first form avoiding a girl with a crush. She was necessary to their mission though, being as she was the true heir to the throne; they had been trying to get her to take back what was hers and set the timeline for this planet right.

"Organizing the candlelight vigil," Rose quipped.

The Doctor sighed, moving his glasses up a bit to rub the bridge of his nose. "Come on Rose," he plead, trying to sound like a tough guy but she knew he was ready to bust out his whinging voice at any moment. "I don't have time for this."

Rose looked at his prison cell and the bars, and murmured "Oh, I think you do."

He stared at her, mouth opening for a few moments, before he closed it and inhaled deeply. She had him there. He gave her a long look, resting his forearms through the bars.

"She fought the King for the rights to her throne and to being treated as a decent alien creature, citizen of this planet with bodily autonomy. The right for everyone to be so. So, as she and her group of handmaidens had everything under control, I took some of the money she'd offered me for giving her the family tree tapestry proving her birthright... good find, by the way... and came here to post bail for you."

He nodded a few times in understanding, the other alien in the cell looking shocked to say the least.

"But I can't post bail for you."

"Whyever not?" he squeaked, looking at her.

"On this planet, you don't become an adult until you're a hundred and forty five, so technically, I'm a minor."

He blinked a bit, ignoring the odd age of maturity, realizing he should have  _known that_.

"Which means I have to give the money to my traveling partner, who is so far beyond  _of age-"_

"Yes yes  _all right_ ," he scowled, not in the mood for an age joke. Honestly, he was no spring chicken but he was far from  _old_ , at least as far as Time Lords had been concerned.

"Anyways, I have to give the money to the suspect, which I guess would be you-"

"Yes, yes brilliant, just give me the money," he muttered, giving her a wry smile.

"All right, but I want you to know it's coming out of your allowance." She murmured, tutting a bit.

" _Now_ ," he nigh on barked in a way he hadn't since he'd had a Northern drawl and a leather jacket on.

"Prison's hardened you," she teased with one of her tongue-touched wolf smiles, making him smile back at her.

"Can you please have the guard let me out of here?" he murmured, taking the money from her and glancing at it. It wasn't a credit stick, so he wasn't altogether certain... "Are you sure this is sufficient funds?"

"Yeah, yeah," she murmured absently, chewing on her bottom lip and making no move to leave. "By the way Doctor... I think it was a really cool thing that you did... finding her genealogy, like that...right under the King's nose, too."

He flashed her his trademark grin. "Thanks."

She sighed in mock regret. "I suppose I should prepare you for the things that've changed since you've been in the Big House..." she spoke on a sigh.

He turned and gave her a squinty-eyed glare, lips pursed, trying to hurry her along so she'd leave. She really enjoyed him eating crow a bit too much. It wasn't like he was a braggy sort, was it...? ...Best to ponder on other things.

"The TARDIS says... we have a  _new_  Doctor  _now_..." she looked to the side, a hand over her heart, lips trembling in a show of fake emotion.

_Oh for the love of Omega..._

He made a hand motion in the air as though batting away a fly, smirking and shaking his head at her. She flashed him another wolfsmile and off she went to get him out of jail. He made a mental note to never again be incarcerated without her right beside him.

* * *

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Rose stared at a picture of herself, standing outside of Torchwood Three, in mid stride with members of her team not far behind.

"What's happening with these individuals, Rose?" Julie murmured, pointing at Owen and Ruby.

"They're quarreling... they  _always quarrel,_ " she murmured softly, looking down at her lap. Mopsy was holding her hand, playing with her right ring finger. She lifted it, and Julie's eyes stayed on her like a hawk's, watching for signs of her falling deeper into herself instead of pulling out of her shell, even a little bit.

"These two?" she questioned, pointing at Tosh and Ianto, who were laughing with each other.

"... Laughing...," Rose murmured. Julie smiled gently at her, nodding. She looked over the picture, it was easy to see that Rose was cut off from the group, incrementally so. It wasn't something that would have been readily noticeable to the others, it was something that had happened so slowly over the past year that those closest to her wouldn't have seen it until it was too late. Those closest to her were starting to notice.

"What about this woman right here, Rose," she said, making it less of a question and more of a statement. She set her finger right on Rose's spot in the picture, the look on her face solemn, at least four steps ahead of her team. Her hand was out as though holding someone else's, and Julie had an idea of whose that might've been. "What is she doing...?"

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

Rose stared at herself and frowned for a few moments.

"I know," Julie said with a smile used for encouraging unenthusiastic children. She was trying so hard to remain a place of safety for Rose. "How about you write down a bit of a story about that picture. What is that young woman doing in the picture?" Rose nodded and began writing with the pen and paper that she'd been given. When she was finally finished and handed her work to Julie, she stood up, getting ready to go. Rose was always counting the seconds, and she was more efficient than the clocks around her. Rose left without a word, as always. Julie sighed, and pulled her simply framed glasses up, around her neck via a gold chain that was small and elegant. It had cost a pretty penny, but working for Torchwood had left her quite well in the wages department. Now she almost felt guilty cashing her paychecks from the man who didn't realize how much his daughter needed help. She could see the woman drowning in front of her, and she feared her arm wasn't long enough to reach.

Upon reading the words on the page, her musings about the young woman's conditions all ground to a halt, and she could see exactly what was going on... she would have to change her tactics. She only hoped this depersonalization would not further. The clock chimed, telling her to reset her clock again. It was obviously slow.

* * *

_The woman in this picture is (pick one)_

_1\. on a perilous journey from which we can learn much when she returns;_

_2\. possessed by (pick one):_  
 _a) the gods_

_b) God (that is, a prophet)_

_c) some bad spirits, demons, or devils_

_d) the Devil;_

_3\. a witch;_

_4\. bad, and must be isolated and punished;_

_5\. ill, and must be isolated and treated by (pick one):_

_a) purging and leeches_

_b) removal of the uterus_

_c) electric shock to the brain_

_d) cold sheets wrapped tightly around the body_

_e) Thorazine or Stelazine;_

_6\. ill, and must spend the next seven years talking about it;_

_7\. a victim of society's low tolerance for deviant behaviour;_

_8\. sane in an insane world;_

_9\. on a perilous journey from which he or she may never return;_

_10\. lost..._

* * *

"Do you know who I am, Rose Tyler?" Doctor Chambers looked at her calmly, his hands in a contemplative prayer position, bouncing a bit in his chair, lips pursed. He looked full of himself. Her instant thought was  _arsehole_ , and she stuck by her gut instinct. She somehow knew this man was going to make what was going on even worse. He let out an annoyed breath at her silence, shaking his head softly. "I prefer your candor to a lack of speech, Ms. Tyler."

"You're Doctor Chambers. You're here to deal with my supposed issues."

"Your issues are  _far_  from  _supposed_ , Ms. Tyler. You're in love with the Doctor."

She stared at him in shock. That was nowhere in her files, anywhere. She'd made certain. She hadn't told anyone anything, and they hadn't given her any form of truth serum. She was panicked, had she heard wrong?

"You didn't hear wrong. I know all about the Doctor, Rose Tyler."

Rose truly hated it when people called her by her first and last the way the Doctor would. It was one of her triggers, it would send her into a depressive, angry spiral if she let it. She grit her teeth, and murmured "Please don't call me that, Mr. Chambers."

"Oh don't call me  _that_ , I've earned my  _doctorate_ , Rose Tyler."

She began to control her breathing, the words rushing over her. Mopsy was glaring at the man, not best pleased at all.

"What should I call you then...?"

"Names are such a delicate thing, are they not?" he questioned cheerfully, a sharksmile on his face.

"Oh cut the bullocks..." she murmured, not best pleased with her treatment.

"I am Johnathan Chambers, J.J. for short..."

"J.J. ..." Rose murmured, making his lips twitch in displeasure. He obviously didn't like it.  _Good_.

"You know, I know you better than you think I do, Rose Tyler," he chided, wagging his finger at her. Her eyes narrowed, she truly hated being spoken down to. She may be crazy, but she wasn't... well, she wasn't to be spoken down to by some  _ape_. She could hear that word in her first Doctor's voice, and she'd been thinking it a lot more often of late. Ever since everything changed.

"Aren't we supposed to discuss feelings, make some sort of a breakthrough here?" she mocked in return, showing with her tone that she doubted his skills as much as she loathed being forced here.

"You want a breakthrough? I'll give you one," he said calmly, slowly standing up and walking around his desk to casually sit on the edge of it, staring at her. She was in pristine white hospital scrubs, the pants fresh from laundering. Her white shirt held the name of the institution, Torchwood West. It was always called the Dark Hotel, however, a name he held in high favor. It made everything so much more  _poetic_.

"I'm waiting," she whispered, tersely. He loved how prickly she could be.

"The first time I ever spoke to you, I told you to "run!" and grabbed your hand, taking you down the hallway. Away from the Autons. I was supposed to leave you be after blowing up your job, but I simply  _couldn't_. I fed you some line about having been looking for the arm, but I was only looking for the arm to find  _you_.  
I knew it would be with you, you see. Clever, me." His words had shocked her, and she stared at him with a mixture of shock and hope, everything in her so ready to jump into his arms if he was truly the Doctor.

Time to bring her pain. He smiled wider.

"I have a story to tell you, Rose Tyler. It's about you and I. It's about how I lost you to this parallel universe, to Pete's World, due to my own insufficiency. I hadn't secured the other clamp properly, and you were the price I had to pay. But you stayed behind, and began to work for Torchwood," he murmured, and she nodded a bit. It was true, she had fallen in with Torchwood. "You began working on finding a way back. The people at Torchwood were eager to fill your selfish needs, because that kind of technology? Torchwood loves to control technological advances."

She blinked, staring at him. "What is a dimension cannon? What are you on about?!"

He shook his head in regret. "What does it sound like? A way to use technology to propel you between dimensions. You missed me. You wanted to find me. You wanted our future."

She had, she truly had wanted their future. But she had never worked on anything like that. She was a field agent, she saved lives. She had never been good at maths and sciences, until... well.

"As soon as I saw you in that alleyway, I ran to you. I couldn't believe my eyes, Rose Tyler, in the flesh."

She blinked a bit, and tilted her head to the side. She wasn't certain how to process this. The Doctor... but this man didn't look anything like the Doctor. Not that it was his regeneration that was the problem - it was the simple fact that when she looked into his eyes, she didn't see the galaxies and the stars that she saw when she looked into the Doctor's eyes. This man's eyes held something else. But he knew...

"What happened then...?" she whispered, as though speaking aloud would be too much. Would break the spell.

"I didn't make it to you. I got shot by a Dalek and that's when I was born... instantaneous metacrisis. We saved the world again, but there I was, the clone... the better half. The human half. The Doctor left us on a beach in Pete's World together, to live out two human lives together, just because I am a dangerous man. I ended things when he couldn't. I took care of it, I was a dangerous genocidal maniac, according to him. Pretty rich, coming from him." he scoffed, looking down at his fingernails.

So that explained it. He was a clone. He was a clone in a story that had never happened. Rose would have remembered unless...

"Are you from the future then? You shouldn't be telling me about the fu-" She paused at something he'd said about her, and he instantly knew which part had tripped her up.

"That was what was meant to happen. It didn't happen. You never made the dimension cannon. You never created it and jumped over to tell me of the stars going out. You stayed here, mired in pain. I was created anyhow, but the Doctor didn't have you to shove me off on. I was abandoned, Rose Tyler. So I had to go and find some regenerations. You see, I'd nicked Jack's vortex manipulator, and so I could travel through space and time. Traveling to a point where I could take another's regenerations wasn't easy. I regenerated once during such a dangerous journey. Hence why I look like I do."

Rose couldn't be hearing this. The Doctor... no. His clone. Apparently a human one. That's who he was. One who stole the very life from Time Lords?!

"You... you went back in time...? To when there were Time Lords, to steal?"

He grinned at her. It was not a nice grin. It was an affirmative.

"Then," he continued, "I have a story for you about trying to steal from myself. It'll really amuse you one day, how I defeated myself. But that doesn't matter. You will not call me the Doctor, for I am not him. I am the Valeyard."

Valeyard... that word sent shivers down her.

"Don't worry, I will never steal from you..." he tried to speak to her gently, but as he did, she felt something tickling her arm. She looked down, and saw a cockroach running up her arm. Then another, and another, until there was a whole swarm of them. She tried to shake them off, letting out a loud cry of shock and horror. They wouldn't stop crawling on her, not even the little ones. These were the large hissing cockroaches, and she began to scratch, trying to peel them off of herself. She shrieked in her chair, shouting at him for help.

"Get them off! They're all over me!" she screamed, raking her nails all along her arms until she drew blood, trying to get the creatures off of herself. He was laughing, enjoying her pleas.

"What is?" he questioned, and she lifted her arm to show him when she saw her arms were bare. There was no trace of any bugs on her, and instead her arms were covered in deep grooves, bleeding in some places.

"You... you did this...?!" Rose was shocked, and he was laughing at her, as though it was the most humorous thing on the planet.

"Blame, blame, blame. It's no longer important, Rose. You've already ruined things. Well, it's not  _your_  fault, but of course it is."

"I don't understand!"

"You would if you would only open your mind!" he shouted, and Rose looked around nervously. She didn't need any more bugs. "You were meant to be my wife. Meant to belong only to me. You haven't learned yet, but you will, Rose Tyler. You will learn how to love, honor, and obey me. I'll teach you how to be the perfect wife, Rose."

She shook her head, and snapped "You may be a clone, but you'll  _never_  be him. You're mad!"

"I don't take to being spoken back to very well, Rose. I don't like it."

"You never bloody did!" She retorted.

"No, I suppose I didn't," he murmured, re-crossing his legs. "But you need to realize, my love, that I am  _not_  the Doctor. I am better than he is, and I will go back to him again. We will make it back to our original universe even if it obliterates this one. I will take all of his regenerations, and then the universe shall be mine to take..." he purred the last words out, as though they aroused him. Perhaps they did.

Rose had never heard a real life movie villain give a monologue, but she was certainly hearing it now.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and he rested both of his hands on the arms of her chair. His face was close to hers, and she could feel his warm breath on her lips. She shuddered, and tried to pull away from the smell of cognac. He grabbed her chin and kissed her, softly on the mouth, even though she was fighting him, struggling against it.

He pulled away and began to kiss her tear-streaked cheeks, murmuring "You're so beautiful when you cry for me..."

* * *

Jack Harkness was having trouble sleeping. He sat at his desk at Torchwood, in the middle of the night, completely displeased. For some reason, he could feel something trying to grab onto him while he slept. He didn't like it, and began to go through some of Torchwood's files. He could always ask Tosh, but he didn't want to alert any of his team to a problem just yet; especially when he didn't know if it was an actual problem. It might just be him having been overworked lately, seeing shadows that simply weren't there. Ever since he'd seen the death list for Canary Wharf, he'd seen lots of shadows where they didn't exist. Finding out Rose was happy and still alive had alleviated that particular pain, for the most part. Now it just felt odd again. Something was walking over his grave. Glancing up at his computer screen, he saw that the screensaver was up. It said  _Bad Wolf_  in large letters, and his eyes went wide. He blinked. Still there. Blinked harder, then palmed his eyes. It was gone - replaced by Torchwood One.  _Fuck_. He needed sleep. He didn't even have enough energy to devote effort to getting laid, and tragically enough, couldn't even rub one out.

He walked over to his couch in his office and laid down, trying to take a bit of a kip, telling himself repeatedly that he was just shaken up ever since seeing Bad Wolf all over the place lately. The Doc had promised him that Rosie was alive and well in another universe, with her family, happy as could be. He'd snorted over that. Rosie, happy in a place without the Doc, and possibly him? Never happen. She was head over heels in love with the Doctor, she would never be able to be completely happy without him. But Rosie was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. With regards to the Bad Wolf everywhere... he was imagining it. When sleep finally claimed him, the amount of wrong he'd been struck him.

His dream was beginning well enough, he was thrusting into a Volenite he remembered meeting at a bar on Poosh, and had had a crazy tryst with. He didn't know where the other three had run off to, but he was satisfying himself with the non-gendered, female sexed one below him. It was going perfectly, he'd made them finish twice, and was now racing toward the finish himself, his fingers making divets in the seafoam green skin of the one beneath him. Just a little bit more... he breathed out in relief, eyes closed. It wasn't the greatest he'd ever had, it wasn't even good - through no fault at all of the one beneath him - his mind had just been preoccupied when he'd done this, been back to Poosh. He'd seen the Canary Wharf List, the names of the dead.

He could remember scanning the list, and finding the Tylers.  _Tyler, Amber Renee. Tyler, George Kyle. Tyler, Jackie Andrea Suzette_ \- oh no... Rosie's mother. He remembered how his mouth had run dry. The next name had made his heart shatter.  _Tyler, Rose Marion._  No. No, not Rosie. Not his Rosie. He hadn't  _told her yet._  He hadn't spoken to her, thanked her, forgiven her and  _thanked her_. He'd thought of it as a curse but it'd been a gift given to him by the only woman who had ever genuinely loved him without him having talked her into bed. Or a couch, a wall, a pool, he was getting off topic. Not that he hadn't wanted to - God had he wanted to - but the fact she'd adored him  _anyway_ ; without an orgasm being involved... it was the most genuine relationship he'd ever had with anyone.

He stared back down at the seafoam green Volenite, wanting to praise them but finding himself without a memory of their name. Suddenly, the lime green eyes went wide, staring behind him, and he could feel eyes boring into him. He whipped around, but saw no one, sliding out of the one underneath him. He slowly stood, and muttered something that resembled a thank you and 'You can see yourself out.' Not even mildly offended, he heard the Volenite do just that as he headed into the shower, the door clicking shut a comfort as he shut the bathroom door. Running his fingers along his face, he shook his head a bit and stared up at the mirror. It was already fogged, the words Bad Wolf written across the dewyness by what looked like a finger. It had been a while ago, as the words had a sickening water drip from them, reminding him of blood and as such, what he was there to try and numb himself against.

Swearing, he got into the large shower, the rocks along the side wall reminding him of a waterfall. He shut the glass door, looking around him. It was seven feet long, three feet across... no real  _need_ to be that long, but there it was. The rocks along the walls had a bit of moss to them for the effect of being in a cavern, and they were smooth, a soft purple just like the other rocks on this godforsaken planet. Why had he come here again? Oh yeah, the drink was strong, and the population was as casual about intercourse as he was. It was like shaking hands,  _really_. But he just needed to forget about Rosie. The female Volenite who'd been the softest shade of seafoam had been his favorite... wherever she'd gone. He'd closed his eyes and imagined it was Rosie underneath him, the sound of her moans were so close to the way he'd imagined the blonde's would be, it had been so perfect. It had been like she'd  _known_ , too; she hadn't spoken. Only made the noises. It had made it incredible. He'd breathed out Rose's name more than once, he knew he had - damn if she wasn't polite, she'd stayed in the moment with him. He'd just needed to pretend, just for a while... just lie to himself. He needed the lie. Afterward, he'd tried to recreate it with the others but only felt hollow and had to struggle for the finish.

"So this is how you use your  _gift_?" came the sound of a bitter toned voice. Bitter, angry, and so much like Rose Tyler's voice. He wanted to close his ears. That wasn't Rosie, her voice could take on anger, but never that way. She was light, love, happiness... it couldn't be own conscience  _would_  take on Rose's appearance to try and coax him onto a better path. She was the only one he'd listen to.

"I gave you  _life_ , and you choose to remember me by seating yourself  _balls deep_  into an alien you aren't even interested in enough to remember a  _name_?!"

He grit his teeth against it. Rosie would  _never_ speak like that. Balls deep. Hah, one of many phrases that would never come from her lips. No, that was definitely him. Had to be. He just needed to suck it up and stop being such a twat. That was Owen's job. Don't let the pain of her loss and bitterness of years with abandonment issues by the two people he cared about most turn his Rosie into a nightmare for him.

"You should remember me by being out in the sunshine. I don't know sunshine anymore. I don't know rain. I don't know any of it, I haven't seen anything but four cement walls in so long I've forgotten what fresh air is  _like_." The voice was venomous, near tears... angry with him. Righteously so. He whipped around, and what he saw ripped his breath from his lungs. It was Rosie... but she looked like nothing he had seen. Her hair was longer, to her mid-back, and a much lighter shade of blonde than he was used to; the wave to it confirming for him that she used a flatiron regularly. Her hair was twist dreading in a few places from a lack of care, and it looked like her hair was bloodstained. She was soaking wet... was that from the waterfall stream he was under? She was in hospital scrubs, a pair of stained white scrub pants and a shirt that had slash marks and bloodstains on it. Her arm had gauze bandages from her wrist to the crook of her elbow that was dark with blood, as though someone had neglected to change it for a long time, and she had multiple bruises all over her arms. Her nails were uneven... Rosie never let that happen, she carried a file on her everywhere... there was ripping in the cuticles, as though she routinely clawed and scratched at something as though her life depended on it. The bruises and lacerations along her neck... were those handmarks...? There was strange bruising on her temple... what was that...?! She looked so skinny, and pale, it was a nightmare, a shell of herself. The hospital bracelets on her wrists were indecipherable from this distance, and he couldn't breathe.

"R...Rosie..." he choked out, uncertain if that rasp even qualified as a questioning tone. "...Rosie...?"

Tears leaked from his eyes, mixing with the warm water that was already running down his face, obscuring his vision. Deep seated purple under her eyes, cracked, dried lips... she was dehydrated, her once pink mouth a similar shade to her skin, which was too pale to think of in between the bruising and dirt. This couldn't be real... it was a nightmare. Not real not real. The horizontal, bloody marks on her other forearm looked like scratches... and the blood under her jagged, uneven fingernails made it look...  _self-inflicted_ , his mind supplied.

 _No, no no. No._ Whoever this sad creature was, she was not Rose. This was a nightmare he was having, out of his own fear and self-disgust over everything. His inability to get over what had occurred with the Master. This was... definitely not happening.

"It's happening..."

_Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up._

"No," she whimpered hoarsely, looking into his eyes through her own... wait. Her eyes were supposed to be brown. A shade of cognac that he'd teased her about while drinking the liquor. "No, I won't. I've finally contacted you... I... no, it's too soon. They're back... Jack...  _Jack..."_

She was gone. He palmed into his eyes, hard enough to feel as he was doing it in real life and his dream. He was waking up. His palms were wet, his forehead too... sweat and tears. This nightmare had been the  _worst_... his hair stuck to his forehead, and he felt out of breath. He sat up, no longer wanting to get any form of rest. He just needed a stiff belt to forget all about that nightmare... it had felt so  _real_... upon sitting up, he glanced up at the large mirror on his wall, and saw it fogged up, the words Bad Wolf written across it by a finger.

* * *

Rose was screaming, fighting against the orderlies who were taking her down the hallway in a straightjacket. She shouted pleas at them, trying to get them to just  _let her go_ , after all, she hadn't  _done anything wrong_  and couldn't they bloody see?!  _Couldn't they see that it was Dr. Chambers who was crazy?!_  Doris walked calmly behind, rolling her eyes at the entire situation. It was something she had heard before a million times, and honestly, with what she was being paid, she couldn't care  _who_  the crazy one was. Her checks cleared every two weeks. Rose fought, in tears, screaming at Doris to just listen to her, and calling out for someone named Mopsy. Doris nodded at the orderlies, and they dropped Rose unceremoniously on a table.

She looked around, whimpering in fear. "Where am I? Doris  _please_ ,  _please just listen to me_ , you don't understand he's an alien, Doris! He's a bloody Time Lord and he's  _crazy_!"

Doris raised an eyebrow at Rose, as she was once a Torchwood agent as well. She had a raised eyebrow, a look of disbelief on her face. "Rose, he's been screened already. He is human, he has double helix DNA, he passed all of our tests. Stop being  _difficult_."

"He lied, he got around it somehow! He's clever, Doris!" she shouted, raving because she was so frightened she couldn't begin to censor herself. "We were friends once, you and I! Doris,  _please!_ "

She looked up, and saw two prongs placed on either side of her temples. Oh god. Oh god no. She struggled more, but she was being held down by the two orderlies, losing the ability to fight back. Her body just wouldn't cooperate, it was tiring out.

The Valeyard was whistling cheerfully, the song  _Tiptoe Through the Tulips,_ as he was walking down the hallway to the electroshock therapy room. He smiled down at Rose, leaning down and nuzzling noses with her. She tried to bite him, snarling in anger. He used her open mouth to shove a rubber mouth guard in, wagging his finger at her playfully.

"You're never going to trust me, Rose Tyler... never, ever, ever. How can we be together if you don't trust me, Rose? We simply can't." he shook his head in mock disapproval, but it was obvious he was enjoying this. She could hear him clicking about with a machine, humming to himself. She struggled a bit against the orderlies, but they were too strong while she was in a straight jacket, it didn't matter about biology or Torchwood training.

"Do you know the treatment we give to telepathic beings, Rose Tyler? It's the same treatment we give to beings that are in a sexual, or mated relationship with telepathic beings..."

She looked up at the machine next to her, tears leaking from her eyes. There was no way out of this. None. They were stronger than she was, more skilled in holding down the guests here. She heard him click the machine on, the humming able to be felt even on the table. She could feel the power into the air, and she prayed in that moment that she wouldn't be as alone as she felt. Mopsy was staring at her in horror, trying to speak to her, but she could hardly hear anything over the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears.

"We have to scramble the brain. Can't let them use their thought powers against us, now, can we? Perhaps once your mind is scrambled, you'll be a good little wife for me... at least you'll fight me less..."

She shouted something through the mouth guard, making him laugh at her, before he clicked the button, nd she screamed as pain laced through her entire being. Her mind was in so much pain, and her body seized, the orderlies holding her down quite effectively as she screamed against the electrocution. It felt as though it was taking hours, and her eyes squeezed shut.

When her eyes opened, she couldn't hear the buzzing of the machine anymore, she could only hear the chirping of birds, and explosions that rocked the facility she was in. She looked up and saw cherry blossoms, soft and pink, floating through the air. They were coming from the roof, the holes in it providing a way for the petals to enter what appeared to be a broken down cathedral. She reached up, the explosions sounding so near and so far at the same time, and caught sight of her own hand - nails freshly manicured, and a strange silver bracelet on her wrist. She pulled her hand back down, looking at the bracelet. Two charms on it, they were bigger than most charms would be; heavier. One was a beautiful rose, carved in such a way that it could have been real; even the petals had the markings on them. The other was a wolf, which made the words  _Bad Wolf_  run across her mind. She was in battle gear, what appeared to be a modern re-styling of an older uniform. She had her hair back in a military bun, a small airman's cap off to the side. She wore a military style zip-up in a shade of olive, zipped up just enough so that one was able to see her black tank top underneath. Her pants were more complicated; a black pair of short- shorts with fishnets underneath them, and a pair of the olive military pants over them, but they had many holes in them. She couldn't decide if they were better fashion or function, glancing down; but either way she was more comfortable than one could expect. Her combat boots were tight and supportive, not digging the fishnets into her skin like she would have thought they might. Had she dressed herself?

No... She heard crunching, the sounds of concrete and wood grinding from someone's steps.

Whipping around, she saw her first Doctor, with his big ears and Roman nose. He was in a different outfit, an old style military outfit that matched hers, looking like a general. He was in all olive, and where her outfit had sex appeal, his had extra leather (he  _would_ ). His combat boots crunched in front of her, extra layers on him that reminded her of her Second Doctor more than anything, and he stared at her fondly.

"All right Rose, we have work to do. You still my best girl?"

"..." She wanted to hold him, to kiss him, tell him she missed him more than  _anything_ , but she had to answer his question. "Of course."

"Good. Now, the mission is simple. We have Dray'gans out there, an alien people who the mythos of dragons were based off of. They look exactly like the dragons, and yes, before you ask, St. George actually  _did_  slay one. Leave it to humans to think there's a supernatural creatures on the planet instead of realizing they're being invaded. Stupid apes," he murmured, fondly.

She grinned widely at him, knowing she should rake him over the coals over the apes comment, but she just couldn't. "What's the mission, Doctor?"

"There are two Dray'gans out there, and we have to retrieve them. We can't let these Earth military people get a hold of one of them as a specimen, they'll test on them and torture these poor creatures. We have to help them get out of this battleground. Rose, I don't want to leave you, but I have to watch over you from above. I'll be in the copter, I need you to be below, get to the Dray'gan and I'll be with you momentarily. I have something to handle here."

She nodded, looking down at the ground for a moment. It felt like he was saying goodbye all over again just from telling her he was separating from her.

"Don't worry," he murmured, his hand touching her shoulder. "I'm leaving you with a capable battalion, and I promise, my eyes will be on you from above the entire time. I  _will never_  let anything happen to you, Rose. Not to you."

She smiled, and bit her lip. "What if the worst happens? What if I get captured, and you can't make it to me? What if they capture me, Doctor?"

His face looked grim, and he grabbed her wrist, holding up the bracelet. "Only use this if they capture you. Biology can be used against you, and they cannot have the miracle. The rose charm is a poison. It will work fast, Rose. Very fast. The wolf charm is the antidote. You'll know what to do. But using it won't be necessary. As I said, I have my eyes on you," he breathed, and she nodded, before hugging him tightly.

The hug felt like it lasted forever, but nowhere near long enough.

Rose walked off, down the battlefield, into the trenches, marching with a large group of soldiers to find the Dray'gan and bring them back. She heard the explosions and felt them rocking the ground underneath her feet while she was walking amongst the men, all looking battleworn and bruised, reloading their guns and fighting for all they were worth to protect alien life. She turned her head to the side and her vision cleared.

The Valeyard stood on the other side of the room, looking at her with narrowed eyes. He smirked, and walked over to the machine again, clicking the button again. Pain pierced her mind again, and she screamed through the mouth guard, her world fading again.

She was in the middle of a snowy battlefield, but it was abandoned now, the sounds of the chopper behind her cutting in through the air with a  _whip, whip, whip, whip_  noise. She was crying, seeing one of the Dray'gan, a large red one around the size of a VW van, wings flapping in the air, leaning down against the thick ice. It was so thick the Dray'gan couldn't get through it, the lake water underneath unable to be reached.

"What does it want?" a soldier asked, and Rose had a strange feeling she knew.

She ran over to the ice, ignoring the shouts for her safety, and began to swipe away at the snow on top of the ice. She could see it, the female of the mated pair was underneath, struggling to get through, trying to get to her mate.

She felt hands on her, yanking her backwards, away from the angry, aggressive male. It was the Doctor, holding onto her and pulling her back into the chopper while the soldiers began to try to corral the Dray'gan.

"NO! NO!" Rose screamed, her mind running back to when she was struggling against the wall, freshly in Pete's World on a permanent basis. She could have sworn she felt the Doctor on the other side, she swore she'd heard his breathing.

"Rose, there's nothing we can do. That ice is impenetrable, she may as well be in another universe, Rose..."

"She's  _drowning!_ Without him, she's  _drowning_! Doctor she can't  _breathe_ , she can't!" she screamed. She fought him all the way to the chopper.

When her eyes refocused, she was in her padded room, still in a straightjacket, humming a song that she swore the Doctor was singing to her... or was it the TARDIS? She'd been tossed unceremoniously back, and she couldn't focus a thought to save her life.

* * *

The Torchwood team was dealing with the last of the hostiles, arresting them and turning them over to the Shadow Proclamation, who actually  _did something_  in this universe, one of the few positives that existed here. Who cared? Their chips tasted like shit. She snorted, giving Mopsy a look out of the corner of her eye. He smirked lightly, drumming his fingers on his forearm. She sighed softly, looking over at where Owen Harper and Ruby Storm were in yet another snit. Well... snit was such a  _strong word_ , it was more like Ruby casually baiting him with all the grace of a master of games, and Owen losing his mind. She could see the steam about to come out of his ears, which amused Ruby to  _no end_. She wondered, off-hand, if Ruby did it on purpose because she loved pissing him off, or if she did it because she wanted him some other way and felt the need to punish him for it. Either way, the time and the place was not now or here, and Rose rolled her eyes as she walked over to the main computer, looking at the three techs who were punching away at the keys, making certain of the battle plan.

They'd agreed to help Mangalores, who were not necessarily an ally, but the enemy of my enemy is my friend. They had created a temporary alliance for getting rid of the Daleks found infesting some of the outer planets of this system. Rose had accepted the mission the instant it had hit her desk, not even needing to be told what the mission was about. The word -  _Dalek_. She wished that she could still be that girl who had stood there, teary eyed, in front of the Doctor, asking him what he was becoming as he held that gun, ready to take the life of a Dalek that wasn't even a true threat. He had seen so much destruction, and devastation in his life, so much of it caused by those little metal pepper pots bustling about... secretly, she'd always thought that the little part that shot the laser kind of looked like it's penis. She tried to fight it, but an amused grin stole across her mouth and Mopsy's lips twitched. He tried to fight the smile, but it was kind of amusing to think of these aliens destroying people via their... oh Christ, could she stop already.  _What the hell am I doing?_ She must have needed the amusement, and Mopsy had a case of the church giggles.

"Commander, we need you to look over these scans... there appears to be something in Sector Five..."

Rose ran down the cement stairs toward the hangar, the cement stairs making the heels of her boots clack against them. She didn't care about being quiet, she cared about the little girl who had run down here.  _Petunia_ , she was so little. Rose had met her earlier with her father, the General. She was a mix, between the human General and a Mangalore female named Disé, the dark purple of the mother's skin mixing with the pallor of the ginger haired man, creating a lovely shade of lilac for the girl. She was only four, and her maroon hair was in a Princess Leia style bun on both sides of her head, tendrils of hairs falling out of them framed her face. She'd been laughing, singing in a language Rose hadn't known, but Mopsy had nodded his head to the beat, lips pursed. Easily impressed, Mr. Impressive was. Now she was down there with the hostiles, and Rose was running before thinking. She couldn't think, it was a  _child_ , and Mopsy agreed with her.

She could hear Petunia yelling "Da! Da!" she was calling to her father. What happened? How had she been taken? Rose had barely made it past the first ship when gunfire exploded through the air, the amount of time between each shot so short it was obviously a machine gun. She felt a shock of pain, seven of them, and heard Mopsy yell her name. She heard the sounds continuing and felt herself hit the ground, hard. It was painful, the shock of it. She'd been shot. Her ears were ringing, and she blinked her eyes, hard, glancing up in time to see the return fire, hearing her name echoing off the walls. Sounded so far away. So far. She closed her eyes again, and could see herself as a baby, looking up at the Doctor while her nineteen year old self knew she had fucked up, and just didn't want to admit what a horrid idea it'd been... she could see herself as a young child, between the ages of six and ten, having to be the parent of her single, widowed mother. Her mother had been an alcoholic, and as a child she hadn't been able to tell which was better - when her mother was drunk, and she was at least  _funny_ , even though she drank all the money and at times all that Rose had had to eat was the condiments in the fridge; or when her mother was sober - crabby, emotionally and verbally abusive, but the house was clean and there was food to eat.

She felt like she had a childhood split between ketchup sandwiches and cleaning up vomit while the television set gave her love and acceptance; and a childhood filled with her mother telling her repeatedly what a loser she was, and that she should just shut the fuck up about her ideas because  _her father_  also had ideas, and  _look how well those turned out_. "Don't you put on airs, Rose Tyler, you're absolutely nothing, you came from nothing, never will be anything so I don't know why you act like you've got the smarts God gave a gnat!"

Then when she was twelve, she'd run into this strange man while she was walking. It was Christmas Eve, and she'd been looking in every pub for her mum, but she simply couldn't find her anywhere. Rose had given up hope when a strange old man stood, staring at her. He looked like a strange grandfather, but for all she knew he could have been a creeper, and that had been the last thing she'd needed. They'd ended up striking a conversation, and he'd turned out harmless enough. He'd just come from a war, and told her she reminded him of a friend of his, someone who'd been there for him  _the moment_  he'd needed her. She didn't know why he'd used such emphasis on that, but apparently she'd been quick or something, she didn't know. Either way, in the end, he'd asked her what she wanted for Christmas. She'd laughed and told him she wanted out of this hellhole.

"Now, that's not nice for a young girl to say. Hellhole. Surely, things can't be so bad here."

"I'd rather be in a completely different galaxy than here, mate."

His eyes had twinkled, and he seemed sad for a minute. Great, she'd made an old, lonely veteran pity  _her_. God, she felt like a tool. She suddenly changed her answer.

"A bicycle... one of the tough girls from the neighborhood stole mine." She confessed, and bit her lip.

After they'd said goodbye, she had kind of hoped to see him again. She never did. But damned if there hadn't been a bicycle under her tree the next morning.

Her mum's drinking had lead Rose to follow Jimmy Stone... leaving her drunken mother and that awful flat had been easy. Leaving it for a physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive older man who had taken advantage of a teen girl from a broken home had proven a year's worth of a painful lesson. They'd only had sex a handful of times because he'd gotten bored and moved to simply cheating on her with every girl he'd found - both times having sex with him had lasted about thirty seconds, and he was no giver. When she'd told him, finally, that she was done... he'd tried to kill her, choking her and bashing the side of her head into the wall.

She'd called Mickey before the confrontation, and Micks had saved her life. He'd gotten into a fight with Jimmy without even having to be asked, and the drunken tit had fallen quickly. It was hard, filing charges against him. But having her day in court had been soul-cleansing. She'd been able to stand there, in front of a jury, an audience, a judge, point at Jimmy and say "He did those things to me. He hurt me, he tried to kill me, he beat me. Him, it was  _him_!" and be  _believed_ , instead of the gaslighting that Jimmy had done. Mickey had begun dating her just to give her the experience of a relationship where she was cared about. Something gentle. But to Rose, it had felt like they were just enhanced friends. He'd tried to seduce her a few times, but she had never been into it. She'd tried, for him... but saying she wasn't ready instantly made him stop. He respected her so much and had made her feel so safe. The Doctor had made her feel even safer.

* * *

There had been times where she'd heard her mum's voice in her head while travelling with the Doctor... 'You can't do it, you aren't capable, you think you can do these fantastical things but you  _can't_ , Rose!' and it made her hesitate... but the Doctor made her better. He'd made her see that she  _could_. That she  _should_. That she was a capable creature and was in no way any less than any other human. Rose had fallen so deeply in love with this alien who was so much better than she was. So much more advanced, so much more knowledgeable... she was just a dropout who hadn't been very good in school to begin with. She could still remember her casual answers to teachers who had only been trying to help her.

" _Did you do your homework, Miss Tyler?"_

" _Thought about it. S'the thought that counts, ain't it?"_

" _I am not going to put up with lip from that prissy bitch!"_

" _ROSE TYLER! If you call Miss Allen that word once more, to the Headmaster with you!"_

" _...Bitch."_

" _MISS TYLER-"_

" _I'M GOING!" and the door slamming repeatedly before she'd just walked out of school, not bothering with the Headmaster._

_Losing her virginity to her tutor for science... her tutor who looked exactly like Mopsy... looked like, sounded like, laughed like... he sounded just bloody like him... how..._

" _You're supposed to be a tutor." It was a statement and a question._

" _I am, yes."_

" _Supposed to be smart, are ya? Wif that prissy accent on ya?"_

_He bristled. "I am."_

" _Eatin' fishfingers dipped in custard ain't too smart there."_

" _Says the young woman who has never tried it before. Not every delectable food is haute cuisine, Miss Tyler."_

" _Think you're quite impressive, you do."_

" _I know I'm impressive."_

_It had only been a few days, but they'd begun talking about personal things. It had felt like he'd goaded the conversation toward personal purposefully, as though he had an invested interest in her. It felt like she already knew him. He was always encouraging her, telling her how clever he thought she was, and treating any correct answers she gave him as though she'd handed him the moon and the stars. She had never been treated that way before, as though she was smart and what she said actually mattered. It had made her study for a test, and when she'd passed with a 76% (instead of her usual failing grade) he had been thrilled, going over the test with her as long as she'd needed until she fully understood._

_Once she'd talked about Jimmy Stone seeming interested in her, something about it had upset him. The end of the week, he'd made her late to see Jimmy, not even by accident, not that she'd minded. He'd taken her hard on the desk, and had made some comment about how he'd only expected to help her with her homework._   _He'd touched her like he couldn't get enough of her, meeting her eyes with looks that ranged between disbelief she was real and emotions that he simply_ _ **couldn't**_ _feel for her. He barely knew her!_

_He was gone the next day - one of the faculty members had said he'd been fired for breaking a propriety rule. She'd lost it without him, her drive to even care about school. The one person who'd made her believe she could be anything and do anything had left. Quitting school over Jimmy had been easy. She'd lost faith in herself and the system that had lost her through the cracks long ago._

* * *

She heard the yells, the fight was still going on... how many seconds had been lost by a flashback. How many... she'd not been sure.

Learning to get a job and to live with her newly sober mother had been so interesting... her mum had become someone she'd liked, and her mum felt like they had more of a friendship than a mother and daughter relationship, but it had felt good... even if sometimes the old resentments came up. Like when her mum had attempted to exert authority over her a few months ago over her moving on from the Doctor... old resentments, old wounds. Some things couldn't heal proper. But the day she'd met the Doctor had been glorious. She'd woken up at 7:30, aka the arsecrack of bloody dawn. She'd gotten dressed in a flash, gotten off the bus and onto Henrick's, which was having a sale. That was terrible news, it meant she'd be on her feet all day putting up with angry people who wanted their items  _now, right now_  and there was nothing she could do about it other than give service with a smile. She was finally able to unscrew that pasted on smile for lunch with Micks, who was still so much her best mate. He was no boyfriend. He deserved better. They'd laughed by the fountain, throwing things at each other and horsing about. Just one quick, chaste kiss had been all she'd given, and he hadn't even been upset by it. It was like two siblings, dating. Scared to let each other go but unable to experience any intimacy at all really... no intimacy, no desire, no burn, no need for each other. Nothing. She'd often felt guilty of robbing him of someone who had actually  _wanted him_ , and had told him so every time she'd said no to sex with him. He'd been so gentle and understanding, after the fourth denial, he'd just kissed her on the head.

"It's not your fault babe, I'm pushin ya," he'd said with that damn gentle tone. "I won't try anymore, I'll wait for you to come to me, yeah?"

She never had. She never would.

Off to take the lottery money to Wilson. Then the Autons, and  _Run_ , and... the Doctor. He'd shown her he had an explosive, and was going to blow the place up. She'd of course thought he was full of it, and had run off outside.

That's when it'd hit her, on the street.  _Oh god, I just left this nutter in the shop, after hours, and he's got a troop of weirdos mucking about dressed like plastic people... I'm going to be sacked! They've me on film, helping him about and leaving him there! I'll be sacked for certain!_

As she'd gone to run back, the building had exploded.  _I'm not going to be sacked... because I'll be too busy being in prison! I'm going to JAIL._ She could have cried.

* * *

Everything leading up to when she'd finally looking into the Heart of the TARDIS for him. It all flashed by in little golden flashes, and then there she was. The door had closed, and she had been staring right into the beautiful golden heart. She could hear singing... a beautiful song. Words. Chiming words. What were these words? She didn't know the words.  _Gallifreyan_... something whispered across her mind, and suddenly she could understand the chimes.

" _What do you want? Do not lie to me, for I see into your very essence."_

" _I want to help the Doctor."_

" _Help what?"_

" _I want to save him. I need to save him."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because I love him. Because I need him. The Universe needs him."_

" _What will you be willing to give?"_

" _...Give?"_

" _Everything has a cost, Rose Marion Tyler."_

" _I will give anything to save him."_

" _Your heart."_

" _Yes."_

" _Your body?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Your soul? Your mind? If I needed to rip your skin from your bones, crush your soul, destroy you, wipe you from existence..."_

" _Anything you need. Anything for him. Anything. Just... one request."_

" _...I'm listening."_

" _Let him find someone else... let him find someone... someone like him. Let him find another of his own kind, if there is anyone... please, give that to him. He deserves absolution. He deserves to not ever have to be alone. Never again. He shouldn't be alone."_

" _...Another of his own kind... that, Rose Tyler, can be done."_

" _I'm ready to be wiped from existence now, any way you see fit. Just please save him."_

" _...The will of the Universe shall be done."_

* * *

She hadn't understood what that had meant, but she had suddenly been filled with the entire power of the Vortex, and it had stayed in her body, screaming through her blood, singing in her mind, rattling her teeth and prickling her skin while she floated horizontally in the air. It was as if there was no gravity in the TARDIS any longer. She'd existed, swimming through the nebulae she could see in her mind. The atoms that made up everything ran across her like silk. She'd finally made it to the Doctor, and upon sight of him, things had instantly clicked. They clicked in her mind again. She could see every regeneration the Doctor had ever been. She could see every regeneration he would ever achieve. She stared at the next one, a man with wild brown hair and a larger propensity for talking. The one right after him had kept her attention for a few more precious moments, and now she could understand why. It was Mopsy. Mopsy was truly the Doctor, the Doctor was Mopsy... wait. The Doctor had taken her on a desk. That wasn't right, was it? It was.

The entirety of her memories continued, until she felt too weak for anything more. Mopsy stood over her, but she could only barely make him out. Her mind was fading. Her entire being was giving up. She could hear Owen's panicked voice yelling at Ruby.

"...Two shots pierced her heart... can't get them out... bleeding out..."

"FIX HER!"

"Nothing... do... "

"Worthless... git... not even... Rose!"

"Rose...," Owen's voice. She looked up at him, blearily, unable to form words with her trembling mouth. Her ears were ringing.

_The Valiant Child who shall die in battle._

"Rose, I'm applying pressure to stop the bleeding, we're going to try and save you. Okay? I'm sorry if it hurts."

"It..." she croaked out. "It doesn't hurt..."

"Rose, don't speak, honey. Come on Boss, don't lose your energy." His voice was firm, firmer than it had ever been.

"No... Owen it doesn't... it doesn't hurt..." she stared beyond him, at Mopsy, who looked anguished.

"Rose..."

"It doesn't hurt anymore...how long... are you gonna stay with me?" she whispered the last part, and Owen gave her a quizzical look, mouth bobbing open and shut, uncertain of how to answer that.

Mopsy stared at her in the eyes, taking her hand, and he whispered, "Forever."

At that word, her body released, finally going completely limp in the medic's arms. There was a large puddle underneath her, back sticky from the blood coming from the exit wound, and Owen was shouting for her to come back. Ianto sobbed her name, tucking her head under his chin and let the tears finally come, rocking her back and forth. His face was covered in smudges from the fight, a bit of blood from people near him being shot, and he remembered why he avoided field work. He just sat there, rocking her back and forth, trying not to think about it.

"She's gone," Owen murmured, and Ianto let out a choked noise, turning away. He couldn't hear that right now. Especially not from Owen. He should have defended her better from the other man. Her mental illness had made itself obvious, and he should have shouted down the other man, told him he was an arsehole. Told him to shove off. Sacked him, himself. She had told him she'd felt alone. How had he contributed to that? Had he reached out to her, as he should have? No. So he did the only thing he could. He held her in death as he should have in life. She'd deserved a friend. She'd combatted her mental illness to try and defend them and protect them, even died to protect a  _child_.

Ruby glowered, and hissed. "Check again."

"I've already checked her pulse, Storm, there's nothing else I can d-"

"Check it again, you must be  _wrong_!"

"I CAN COUNT TO ZERO, RUBY." he screamed, finally exploding.

Rose Tyler was dead.

* * *

"I won't  _have this_ , Rose. Not from you. Never from  _you,_ " the Valeyard snarled as he dragged her down the hall by her hair and one arm. She struggled, crying out in pain and terror from being chased so far.  _No, she'd been so bloody close to making it to the elevators and getting out..._  and he yelled for an orderly. Rose fought harder, yanking against her hair, making some of it pull out, but she was in too much fear for her life to truly feel the pain. She bit him in the arm, hard as she could, feeling the skin break and tasting the blood coming between her teeth. He yowled in pain, and threw her down, making her head hit the linoleum with a sickening  _thwuck_  noise. She lay there for a moment, dazed; she could hear him cussing up a storm in Gallifreyan. It sounded like echoes down the hallway, and her pulse was resounding in her ears. She could see stars in her vision, but she struggled up while he was yelling for orderlies, and started running as best she could down the hallway. She was going in a zigzag pattern, trying to get away, but her feet just couldn't seem to cooperate.

_Come on you stupid body,_ _**work!** _

She'd made it down another hallway, and could hear people yelling after her. Whose voices were those? They all seemed to jangle around her brain, bouncing off the walls, leaving the lonely echoes as her mind sluggishly tried to identify the other prisoners this hellhole was holding captive. She had just made it toward the laundry facilities when she was grabbed around the middle, hard, by an orderly who was built like a linebacker. He sacked her against the unforgiving brick wall, and her head clucked with it again. She kept struggling, ignoring the way her sight was blackening. She was like an animal, biting and kicking, fighting to get away from these predators. They were taking her  _back_ , back to the  _worst predator of all_ , and they didn't even care. She screamed when she felt the quick burn and sear of a syringe in the skin just above her buttock, the only place they were able to tag her. She bit again, hard, and raked her nails down one orderly's face before her wrists met an unforgiving, bruising grip. She was losing control of her ability to move her own body.

"Nooooooo!" she wailed loudly, tears streaming down her face, but she hadn't even realized.  _How long had she been crying?_  She kept struggling, but her struggles were becoming weaker, and the vice grip on her was becoming stronger.

A cheerful whistle that echoed off the walls made her blood run cold.

No. Not him. No.

He stroked her face just as the ability to fight left her, the sedative relaxing all of her muscles. She was left twitching, staring at him.

"You look so beautiful when you're afraid of me," he murmured. "But even afraid, so filled with fire. That's my Rose, in all of her splendor. I believe you truly  _would_  fight me to the death but there's no need. I told you. Love, honor, and obey. Perhaps we need to cement that lesson?"

* * *

_She had been so close to escaping. She'd been hiding in the shower room, trying to make it out of there. She closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing, but she had yet to learn this art. Looking around the room she had entered, she saw the mixed tiles all over the floor and walls, strange shades of taupe and tan that could only be found in a bathroom. This was the shower room, filled with stalls that only made it up to the girls' hips, for some form of modesty. It always reminded her of when she was in school, after phys ed. For right now she was listening, hearing the sounds of footsteps. The steps were just down the hall, and she ran as quickly as she could, making it across the room and hiding behind one of the stalls just as the door opened._

_Closing her eyes and forcing her breath to even, she heard the measured footsteps and the snick of the heavy metal door shutting. Her hand was trembling, the one holding the scalpel, her one defense against him. The silver glinted a bit in the light of the moon coming through the barred windows, making her duck her hand down further. Nothing to alert him to where she was. She glanced around the room, letting her observations bleed into her mind, trying to suss out a way to get out of this closed room. It was never ideal, running away from a pursuer into four closed concrete walls, but she was in a place filled with closure and walls. She had to get out._

_Suddenly all of the showers turned on, the water freezing. She made a sound against her will, before clapping her hand over her mouth, feeling the burn of tears in her eyes. No no no. Anything but this. The sound of his whistle made it worse, cheerily whistling the tune from his record player._

_**Oh, tiptoe from the garden_

_By the garden of the willow tree_

_And tiptoe through the tulips with me**_

" _"You can try and hide from me all you want,"" he said in a singsong tone, sounding further away from her. This gave her the warmth of hope in her chest, the fight or flight instinct telling her to move. But the problem is that I have far more experience than you. You've never been taught, you're just trial and erroring...not a good way to live."_

_He sounded so far away. She slowly peeked her head up, trying to see where he'd gone off to, see if it was safe to run for the door. She couldn't see him anywhere, and backed up a bit out of the shower stall, still crouching. She ran into a solid pair of legs behind her. Her entire system froze up with fear, and before she could make a move, her hair was in a vice-like grip._

_"Hello my little pink and yellow." His voice was breathy, as though he'd been holding his breath so she wouldn't be able to hear._

_She was dragged out of the stall and her scream echoed through the shower room, and down the hall._

* * *

"Now what to do with you..." he murmured, patting her hair.

She blinked a bit, and her eyes widened. She had passed out, re-running how she'd made it to the shower room but it had been no use. She hadn't escaped him. She was back in her straight jacket, she realized, and she was freezing cold. Her skin stuck to the floor, and not in a good way either.

She was inside of a giant freezer, she realized, among different food stocks... she struggled against the bindings, but it was no use and she knew it.

"Why... why am I here?"

"You'll be here for a while. I figured the silence might help you to contemplate how much nicer to me you should be... don't worry, your skin will heal. You're a miracle, Rose."

She whimpered, and struggled harder.

"Don't worry lovely, I'll bring you back out in a few hours." he held onto her pocket watch, and swung it from side to side. "No more noise from this, not until you've earned it back, pookie."

She looked panicked. Not without her ticks or tocks... not without those...

He grabbed her chin, and pushed a bruising kiss onto her freezing cold lips. When he pulled back, she spat in his face, making him instantly backhand her.

"Oh no, look at what you've made me do..." he breathed. "Maybe you'll be in here an entire day... as long as it takes you to learn..."

He slammed the door behind him, and put a padlock on it.

Mopsy walked over to her, as the silence began to creep over her. He sat down next to her and sighed a bit, before picking up her book and beginning to read to her.

* * *

Rose could hear it all again, the voices of her life blurring. Her and her mum laughing, talking to Micks, her parallel father, her little brother Tony, her Doctor, Jack... everything blurred and mixed. Pain wracked her body as it came to. She was no longer bleeding everywhere, the wounds were healed. The golden light that was behind her eyes must have been everywhere, all over her body. There was dead silence in the room she'd been in, and she forgot to breathe. Luckily, her system didn't seem to mind that, doing the work for her. Her heartbeat seemed even quicker, she couldn't explain it, but it felt like it was a more powerful beat than normal, her pulse was racing but her body wasn't feeling the ramifications of too quick of a beat. Her eyes opened, changed from the deep brown to a shade of amber, a bit of golden light dancing behind them every once in a while. She slowly sat up, and Owen stared at her like she'd just grown another head.

She got helped up, the medic checking her vital signs and staring at her in utter shock, but she was only half paying attention. The dust on her clothing was being brushed off by Ianto, who looked at her with tears in his eyes, trying to suss out what happened. Ianto wrapped her arm around his shoulders, helping her walk in case she was too weak. She couldn't even argue, Ruby walking on her other side instantly, the conversation flowing in one ear and out the other. She only heard a few choice words...  _medical unit...some fucking medic you are, Owen... alive... are you... okay, Rose? Rose? ...in shock... yeah, no shit..._ As she was walked past one of the ships, caught a glimpse of her appearance in the reflection of the window. She looked the exact same... but now everything felt like she was still swimming. She needed sleep.  _Regenerative coma_. Wait, what...? Why would she need one of those, she wasn't a Time Lord.

She was human, wasn't she...? But the questions that she'd asked, the way the Vortex had answered her... it began to all make sense. The reasons why she had felt depersonalized, like she wasn't even a real human being, why she'd felt on borrowed time... because she  _had been_. She'd known. This had been planned. She had been planned. She'd had the Vortex pulled from her by the Doctor but it had already changed her. She would die in battle, and had died. Rose Tyler was dead. Her human part was gone. She was... that made her a Time Lord? She tried not to think about it, but there were literally millions of thoughts trying to swarm in, millions of things she was noticing about every particle of being in the room. Millions of observations all trying to hit her at once and no way to filter them. No wonder the Doctor talked so much, the alien  _couldn't bloody help it_.

But she still felt the depression, even more so. Her mind felt empty and full at the same time and for some reason that was injurious to her already bruised psyche. She stared around her, worried suddenly. Her mind was silent save for her own thoughts. This was normal for a human, but for her it felt like screaming into a large cavern for others and only receiving her own echoes in return. She looked up at Mopsy, and wondered if the Doctor felt this way  _all the time_. They made it out of the building and onto the concrete of the road, heading out to get her airlifted out, Ruby insisting that Owen should go with her, saying she had something important to do, something personal. Rose turned and looked at Ruby in surprise, not only at her trusting of Owen Harper to do a damn thing, but for her willingness to leave Rose after she'd been declared dead. Mopsy gave her a staredown himself, scrutinizing the way she was standing there, reassuring Rose.

"It's not that I wouldn't like to be there, but I have other obligations to see to, Rose. I can't be late for them. I'll be in to check on you soon. And Harper!"

Owen was gently fitting Rose into the stretcher, insisting she be laying down for the duration of the trip, make it easier on her. "Yeah?"

"Don't fuck it up." she snapped, walking off. Owen gave her a two finger salute, and finished buckling Rose in.

_Everything will be fine..._

Rose had felt it, she was certain. The instant her feet had touched the ground.

 _The movement of the Earth_.

She could feel the world turning.

* * *

Ruby Storm walked slowly to the Time Lady mix, her curly hair bounced as she looked around in confusion. Poor little creatures, so few of them were even worth the gifts she could give, or the destruction her siblings and her could wreak. She had been male before, but had chosen this form specifically for her current job. Trying to work with Rose Tyler and deal with River Song would be difficult enough, but the veil between universes needed to be breached, and all without the bloody Doctor sticking his obnoxiously large chin into it. Seriously, could the man just have a regeneration without something coming out odd? For Time Lords supposing to be the most advanced species, the forms the last of them had in his arsenal always had a flaw. Ruby picked at her fingernail, wondering absentmindedly if it was purposeful. Big ears, big nose, big hair, big chin... that wasn't even getting into the pre- Time War. His original form had been interesting, however; especially when young. Of course his choice of companion, Koschei, had proven that the Doctor could just never quite seem to manage it, could he?

Ruby's hair wasn't in it's usual, sternly pinned back style. She kept it down, ramrod straight, trying to blend into the crowd earlier with greater ease. Now she was staring at her target, the light in the room glinting off of her sunglasses. She stared at River, who was confused. River, during her entire time in this prison, had never once received a visitor. Not even the Doctor. Of course, she'd told herself that he hadn't been able to handle the confrontation of both his guilt and her, which was mostly true; but something in the back of her mind naggled at her. The same thing that always naggled at her.  _He isn't in love with you, he never was, he never will be. He's only with you to assuage his guilt and protect the time lines._ She was usually able to ignore that, but lying to herself about it always made her feel like she was insane, so she simply tried not to think about it, had allowed him to dote on her when he would, smile at her and playfully flirt back - but when she realized he did that at a constant with everyone, it'd only solidified that voice of doubt in her head. Or voice of truth.

She sat down, on her steel chair, being cuffed to it, the cuffs beeping. Laser cuffs, she'd never dare move out of them - only thing struggling did was lop off an extremity.  _These maximum security guards are not fucking around..._

Ruby sat calmly, her new leggings still black, but shinier. They made a small swish noise as she crossed her legs, bouncing the one on top a bit and smirking as one did when one held all the cards. Her deep red lipstick made her teeth seem even whiter as she gave the Time Lady hybrid a sharksmile. River felt uncomfortable over it, she was able to face anything, but something about this woman told her that she was a psychopath, a real one. River knew what psychopaths looked like, what they felt like. This woman had it in for  _something_ , and was not going to stop until she  _got it_.

"Are you going to greet your first visitor, or do I have to sit here with my thumb up my arse?" Ruby muttered brusquely, her kind and gentile nature disappearing the instant her patience ran out.  _She isn't even a real Time Lady and she wastes time like the best of them_.

"Um..." Caught off guard.  _Shit_. "It would be easier if I knew who was gracing my prison cell."

"You were already given my name."

"Ruby Storm is  _not_  your name," River said, in that no-nonsense tone she'd somehow inherited from her mother.

"Well, say what they may about you, your powers of deduction appear to be sound." Ruby returned, offering an elegant shrug of her shoulders with her hands clasped in front of her. She shifted so her legs were crossed at the ankle, and raised an eyebrow at the other woman. "Who am I, then?"

"Isn't  _that_  the question, then," River murmured.

"You'd think you'd be grateful," Ruby returned, before adding helpfully, "Not even your eccentric husband comes here to grace you with his presence."

_Ouch. Thanks for that. I needed that._

"This friendly visit from someone who isn't who they say they are have a point?" River asked in a clipped tone.

"Are you happy with how your life has turned out, River Song?"

River slammed her head back against the chair.

"It's so strange, isn't it? Married to the Doctor, never see the Doctor, not saved by the Doctor, have to save the Doctor? How unfair of a trade. He didn't save your life when it counted most, but you get to spend your entire life propelled backwards in his, saving his sorry, Gallifreyan arse every step of the way, only to be greeted with scrutiny, irritation, and a gentle rebuff of any intimate advances. Someone got the short end of the stick, didn't she?"

River began to hit her head harder against the back of the chair. Maybe if she did it in just the right way, she'd black out and not have to be present for this conversation.

"You make a terrible therapist," River snapped, giving up trying to knock herself out for the moment.

"I'm no therapist. What do you think you'll get here, in maximum security? Huggie snuggle time? You  _killed_  someone, Miss Song! You don't get recess or a school counselor!" the amusement in Ruby's voice was near criminal. This woman was far too smug. But something about her felt off. Time whipped around this woman as though everything she touched was in flux. As if to prove it, Ruby stood up, outside of the visitor's chair, and began to circle River's chair. The guards got up, immediately, and began to move towards her. Ruby held up one hand, and it was as though an invisible pulse ran through the room. The guards froze in place, the air even seemed to still. The entire room felt like it was on pause, but sounds from the outside of the door told that it was still hustling and bustling in the prison. The sounds were louder, even, coming through the door.

"I've met him before, you know," Ruby stated, conversationally, not even mentioning what she'd done. She acted like it was something that occurred daily; which made River realize that it might very well be. "I had him do a favor for me... well.  _We_  did. It was a difficult task, but boy did he deliver. He always does, you know, no matter what we threw at him, he came back swinging. Rebellious Time Lord... which  _is_  an oxymoron, by the way."

River grit her teeth. She never wanted another visitor  _again._

"Of course, he wasn't informed that it was his future to deal with the key and succeed with it. I could have told him, but that'd be cheating. I'm not like  _you_ ," Ruby teased, standing directly in front of River now. She shook her head in amusement. "The absolute backbone of you... I admire it. I mean, the man was in mourning, for Time's Sake. Not quite the time to play 'seal our time loop by force', is it?"

"I don't know what you're  _talking about_ ," River hissed.

"You haven't done it yet, but you  _do_. The day he doesn't know you, and you die."

Oh yeah. River knew. She just hated talking about it.

"You said you met him."

"Curiosity killed the Time Lord... he's on his eleventh regeneration now, curiosity just seems to kill him on repeat."

River smiled at that, shaking her head. "He is a bit careless..." she murmured, guardedly. If she was forced to have this conversation, she would have it.

"You really do have the short end of the stick. You tried so hard to create intimacy, you tried to kiss him, and what was on his mind...? The ghost of a woman that he truly loved. I feel bad for you, Miss Song. So I've come to offer you something."

"I don't need any more enemies than I already have in here." River snapped.

"I'm not the enemy here, River Song. I'm simply here for the same reason I've always been here. The same reason the Doctor went off to play fetch for me and my... siblings... so long ago."

"What reason might that be?" Good, they were getting to the point of this.

"I fix things. I fix timelines, you see. I fix them out of necessity, to right wrongs, or for my general amusement." She gave another gallic shrug, leaning back even further into her chair, looking way too relaxed for the prison atmosphere.

"... You fix timelines?" River asked, incredulously. "...What do you want from me?!"

Ruby removed her aviators, revealing a pair of deep red irises, ones that matched her name perfectly. "Something so simple you could do it in your sleep. I need you to make a delivery of a vortex manipulator and some coordinates and a date to one Jack Harkness. I have the address right here, and a spare for your transport. All you need to do is to make certain he is there."

River was silent, digesting this. She didn't know what this woman was, but she knew that she was something important, and that since she'd gotten here had done very little but insult her, and make cavalier comments about her life. It wasn't a bad life for what it was. She had quite a few adventures with the man she loved, and even if he wasn't in love with her, he still treated her with kindness. It wasn't her fault that she was in love with him. She'd tried for a deeper intimacy with him, but the first and only time he'd kissed her, she'd brushed her mind with his. Something intimate for Time Lords, something that should have sparked his passion, and furthered theirs the way she'd always wanted. Her joke about being a screamer, the way she always tried to flirt more intensely... those all stopped at that moment. The moment she saw that he was imagining kissing  _Rose_ , not  _her_. She'd known he was in love with Rose, the TARDIS had told her... but she'd foolishly figured it would be like dating a widow. But she couldn't compete with someone's perfect memory, and she couldn't force him to love her. But she would selfishly take what she could from him. He never pushed her for a kiss ever again, and he had never tried for anything further than that. She at least felt respected that he hadn't tried to use her body to imagine being with Rose. But this woman... this woman was a powerful stranger. River was in prison for murdering her husband. She didn't need the worst parts of her life presented to her on a silver platter while here.

"Don't worry about what he'll do when he's there... he'll take over very quickly."

"Why do you want this? Why can't you do it?!"

"I despise getting my hands dirty," she murmured, blandly.

"...Do I get to know exactly what this will cause?"

Ruby's eyes flashed at the other woman. "No," she said on a sigh, as though she was so put upon.

"What exactly is in it for me if I do this?"

The sharksmile reappeared, the one that worried River so much. "I'm going to give you what you've secretly wanted from this time loop since you figured out you were in one. I'm going to give you your most secret, dark, selfish desire you've harbored, the one that brings more and more bitterness and bile every time you allow it to the forefront of your mind and must swallow it down."

River was shaking a bit, being called on the carpet was one thing. But having yourself being forcefully splayed in front of another you didn't even know... it was nervewracking. Ruby continued to circle River's chair, looking as though she hadn't a care in the world. The guards were still frozen in time, the entire room getting more and more tense as the scarlet orbs looked her up and down as though considering. She stopped directly behind her, whispering "Your... freedom..." clicking the button that released the laser cuffs from River's skin.

River could have moved, but her vision was suddenly filled with the visions of a timeline that hadn't happened yet, but it might. She was a child, she'd been rescued from Dr. Kovarian, and she was seeing birthdays flying by, herself laughing with her parents, her mother calling out "Melody, dear, it's time for lunch!" Her father was running around, playing 'airplane' with her, and suggesting brekkie. She was watching her mother work as a model, excited to look like her when she was all grown up. She was suddenly propelled further into that life, seeing herself becoming an archaeologist, one who wasn't for all of those boring classrooms, not her; she was a lot like her Uncle Doctor, she ran in and got her hands dirty. She was a tomb raider, employed by herself, mostly - collecting her treasures, busting through ceilings, shooting strange demons that protected relics of ancient gods. She got married to a man just as crazy for adventure as she was. She got married, and he truly loved her. They had children, and she would die having lived the perfect life. The visions faded just as fast as they arrived. This was the prize, the boon she would be given for working with this woman.

"Do we have a deal, Miss Song...?"

Ruby's hand was in front of her face, waiting for River's hand to join hers.

* * *

" _You all right mate? Too much to drink?"_

_The sound of her voice ripped into him. She was everything and he'd lost her. He'd lost her to his own stupidity. He couldn't get over it, her voice was as much pleasure as it was pain - why couldn't he just do it... just cross his own timeline, take her just for a few hours. It'd only be a few, he could wipe her memories of it, it would only be a few, didn't he deserve his dying wish? Just this once?_

" _Something like that," he replied, knowing it would never be just for a few hours. He would touch her, he would go near her, and he would keep her. He would hold her to him, damn the consequences, as the reapers destroyed everything around them. His Rose would never want that. Ever._

" _Maybe it's time you went home."_

_My home is wherever_ _**you** _ _are, Precious Girl, you just don't_ _**realize** _ _that... because to you I'm just a drunk in a shadowy alleyway, and your heart is too_ _**big** _ _to ignore me or curse me like you_ _**should** _ _._

_"Yeah," he murmured, feeling his time running out. No._ _**No.** _ _Just a few more moments of her face, it's all he wanted, please..._

" _Anyway, Happy New Year."_

" _And you."_

_She's_ _**leaving!** _ _No no, don't leave me, you_ _**promised** _ _, and here you are, walking away from me by_ _**choice** _ _please don't... he was being such a child about this whole thing, but he felt entitled to it._

" _What year is this?"_

_She turned around, her golden hair fanning a bit. He could have had that. He could have run his fingers through it at any time, and he'd known that. He'd stopped himself, telling himself that it was out of line, she didn't want a broken old Time Lord, that she would die well before him... her time with him would be short. Everyone's was. Even this apparent wife he was supposed to have. She was dead before he'd even known her well enough to marry her. If he'd known, if he'd only realized how it would feel to look back on his time with her and feel this regret, he would have held her and kissed her and romanced her all along the stars so he'd at least not have the regret in his chest, making his stomach run cold with dread and self hatred._

" _Blimey, how much have you had?" she smiled so sweetly, trying to remain polite, helpful. So Rose. "2005, January the First."_

_So helpful. Come to me. If ever there was a time when I would love the powers of a Jedi, it's now. Come to me. Come to me, let me hold you. Just let me touch you. ...I sound like a dirty old man, he self reprimanded._

" _2005?" he questioned, trying to get his mind working. His past self would have her soon. He'd lost his chance, and his past self would too. Stupid. Stupid Time Lord. Stupid. "Tell you what. I bet you're gonna have a really great year."_

_She burst into that beautiful smile and his hearts swelled in his chest._

" _Yeah?"_

_She went off, and he stood there in regret, before feeling something behind him. The wind, it was colder than it should be. It felt like a presence was behind him._

" _Such a fantastic year," a voice whispered, one that brought chill. "Too bad this one has been nothing but_ _ **shit.**_ _"_

_He turned around, and saw a pale girl, barefoot, in the snow behind him. She looked like she was in white hospital scrubs, covered in some stains of what looked like dried blood and food particles. As though they hadn't been properly laundered in over a week. Her hair was beginning to twist from a lack of brushing, and it had bloodstains in it. It obscured her face, and her arm had a long gauze bandage on it. He was struck breathless by this poor girl._

" _What's happened to you? Can I help you miss?" Even dying, he instantly put an innocent in front of himself. He walked over toward her, and she removed the gauze on her arm. There were letters carved into her arm with what looked to be a small knife, or... a scalpel, his mind told him. He heard a loud slam followed by Rose's voice, calling out for Mickey, making him turn back. The instant he turned back, she was gone._

The Doctor jolted awake on the jump seat of the TARDIS, blinking a few times as he saw Amy was shaking him lightly on the arm.

"Doctor, you fell asleep. I thought Time Lords didn't need to sleep much?"

"Pond, we sleep sparingly, but my body just needed to rejuvenate itself. We've been doing a lot of late, and this body is relatively new." he adjusted his bowtie calmly, trying to think about the dream. It had felt so  _real_ , but he knew that it could not have happened that way. He would have been looking for that poor girl. But her arm. What had her arm said?

He racked his brain, using that photographic memory, and stopped on a dime the instant he read the words back, making Amy run into his back.

_Bad Wolf._


	3. If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose discovers what it's like to be a Time Lady, and is able to find some form of closure with her mother in the past. Bad Wolf meets with Jack Harkness in Rose's past, but Jack's future, and gives him a gift. In the future, Rose finally steps foot outside of the asylum and meets one of the Doctor's past companions, despite a communication problem, and realizes that she's met many of the companions' parallel selves. Can Jack get there in time to save them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I know it's been a while, and for that I apologize. Dry spell is broken, now back to writing. A few things I'd like to go over: This fic is meant to be a psychological trip. A lot of things in this fic may be difficult to handle, and for that I do like to trigger warn. There are instances of blood, battles, psychological disorders, character death, self harm, suicidal thoughts, description of certain psychological treatments that are less than legal or kind, hallucinations, and a definite cascade between what is real vs. what might not be. This story does contain angst, but it is also a romance story, and it holds some inspiration from Sucker Punch! and Girl, Interrupted. The song quoted in this chapter is 'Counting Flowers on the Wall', as performed by Eric Heatherly.
> 
> This fic does fade back and forth between the present and the past. The present time is in the beginning and end of this chapter. All else Rose experiences is her past experiences.
> 
> This chapter also reveals who Ruby and her siblings are. A link to the way I have them looking in my headcanon is on my bio. If you need help knowing what Rose's experiences are seeing things as a Time Lady, there is a link to a youtube video of the Librarians. For those in the Librarians fandom who are familiar with Cassandra, it's pretty par for the course.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated as a Christmas present to its wonderful beta, Vampiyaa. I love you lovely! Thank you for everything!
> 
> The bracelet used is again from the lovely Bubblygal92.

 

Driving down the road in Chiswick at night was rough enough, especially being alone; but when it was stormy like this it made the loneliness amplified. Donna Noble felt ridiculous admitting it, but she felt like maybe, at some point in her pathetic meaningless life she'd been great. Somewhere along the line, she'd possibly done something of worth, something that mattered. She had mattered to someone. Had a genuine, honest to God friend.

This was, of course, impossible. Donna suffered no delusions, she knew she didn't mean anything to anyone, honestly she was just a temp, and even that she was terrible at. If she was feeling especially lazy, she would simply feign ignorance of everything so she was paid to literally watch others do the work they'd hired her to do temporarily. Her life felt more and more meaningless every single day. If she wasn't such a coward and wasn't terrified of leaving her Grandpa Wilf all alone to face her overbearing mother, she would have ended it a while ago. She'd put a lot of thought into it, to be honest. She wouldn't go any of the normal ways. She'd try and drown in the ocean so that no one would have to clean her up. She wouldn't be missed anyways. It was one of the things she'd written in her diary she just didn't bother hiding. _As soon as Grandpa Wilf dies, I'm going to_ _ **kill**_ _myself. He's the only one who loves me, and I cannot face a world without him._

She looked up, clicking on her turning signal. Great, she was almost to the bridge. She hated that thing, especially this time of night, and in a rain storm. It looked creepy, the bridge was older and wooden so it creaked as she drove across it - a sound amplified by the fact that some chav had busted into her car last week and taken off with her radio... oh, and she was the only one out. As soon as the light turned, she began to drive to the bridge, the gravel crunching under her tires. She looked up at just the right moment, seeing the sky do a funny ripple.

"What the _hell_?!" Donna sputtered as she was driving across the bridge, hearing the creaks. The ripple hit harder, and she could see a ripple go across the ground and over her car. She gasped as a strange sensation overtook her body. It felt so oddly familiar and yet not. What the hell was it? _Time and space travel._ Her mind supplied those words and she blinked a bit strangely at them. She'd been watching too much Sci Fi on the telly, definit-

"OH GOD!" she screamed, hitting the brakes hard and hearing the squeal as they fought for speed and her too bald to be truly street safe tires fought for a bit of traction in the rain. Her car turned a bit, missing the person as she hit the side of the bridge. Donna's heart was going a million kilometers a minute, so she shut off her car, yanked the keys out, and threw them on the passenger's side seat.

She looked up, seeing the person still walking. They looked like a zombie with that gait. She could have sworn they weren't there when she'd begun on the bridge.

_The ripple._

Donna ignored that.

Getting out of the car, the rain poured heavily on her. It was freezing cold at first, but Donna numbed out surprisingly quickly as her concern for a fellow human being... a girl, overtook her own self. The girl had dirty blonde hair that had matted into twists, and she was wearing what looked like a long john set of pajamas. She was covered in blood, the rain was making some of it dribble down her body in pink trails. There was just so much of it all over her dirty clothes, which were ripped up as though she'd been violently attacked; just to add insult to injury. Her hands, from what Donna could see, had split skin around the fingernails, the rest made of random bruising. Donna feared seeing the rest of the girl.

She was shivering as she headed to cut the girl off, calling out to her. "Wait, _wait_! Are you hurt? Did I strike you with my car?" She knew she hadn't, but she was hoping to make the girl stop. She ran harder, slipping a bit on the wet wood in her kitten heels, and moved faster, just to barely make it in front of the girl.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

_What was that?! A clock?!_

Her eyes drifted to the pocket watch being clutched in those poor hands, then took in the rest of her, feeling the breath leave her body with shock.

The front of the girl was worse than Donna had considered. Donna let out a loud noise of pained shock, covering her mouth. There were bruises all over the girl's face, as though she'd been repeatedly struck. Her eyes had dark circles combined with one of them being blackened. Her eyes themselves looked dead, a lifeless brown that had darkened enough to mix with the black of her pupil. Her lip was split in three places, and there were strangulation marks around her neck. Donna could literally count the fingers. There was a place where her hair was ripped out, just a small spot. The swelling at the girl's temples looked so strange. Could she have been hit?! Donna wasn't sure. The rips in her top made the temp fear for the worst - she'd obviously been attacked, possibly sexually assaulted. She reached out to touch the girl's arm and stopped as she heard the rustle of gauze. As it fell away, she could see carving. The words 'Bad Wolf' were carved crudely into her arm, and the blackening and puffiness looked like infection. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry for this girl, and never stop. As bad as she'd just been thinking she had it... this was a loud wake-up call that it could _always_ be worse - she could be in as much physical pain as she was in mental/emotional pain.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

Donna heard her whimpering, and looked at the girl. "What was that? What are you saying?"

She leaned in and struggled to make sense of it, but the girl's lips would not move. "Nnnkkk…" The nasal noise she made sounded painful. Was she…. Oh God, she _was_ …. No wonder she couldn't speak! The person who had done that to her mouth was a _monster_ ….

"Miss, miss let me help you!" Donna cried, as the girl snapped her head to attention. "I'm going to call paramedics, they'll help you-" she went to muss about looking for her mobile when a terrible thought occurred to her. "...Do you know who did this to you?!"

Just as Donna touched the girl's shoulder, the girl reacted to the touch by letting out a screaming noise, with her lips pressed together so tightly – it came from deep within her throat. She grabbed Donna's face in her hands as an instant method of defense, and just as her fingers grazed her temples, the true depth of the girl's terrified scream now bounced around Donna's consciousness as she blazed through her mind at breakneck speed – clumsily, far too harsh, far too quick, lacking in proper instruction. Something golden consumed Donna's entire being, the work of the last Time Lord to touch those temples undone. The twitching Time Lady inhaled deeply at the new images given to her by the human she was holding, and with that, the redhead let out a squeak as everything went black.

* * *

 

A little girl named Vanessa hid in her closet, frightened of her father. He was coming, stomping up the stairs. She could hear him, feel the vibrations in the walls. She dreaded every single step, trying to brace herself. She was only eight, but she knew the pain of his temper very well. Her mother was always drunk, which just led to her yelling; but her father's lack of sobriety always gave him a hair trigger temper.

She could see a dark figure in front of her shutter closet door, and for a moment she was filled with the fear that it was her father, whom for some reason she couldn't hear stomping up the stairs anymore.

It was almost like time had stopped.

The door to Vanessa's closet slowly turned, and a little girl who looked very ill stared at her with fathomless eyes. Her hair was wild and red, and she was covered in blood. Vanessa gasped when she saw the wound on the girl's stomach. Blood was puddling underneath her, she looked like a little girl from a horror movie who'd been killed by someone.

"Hello, Vanessa," the little girl breathed, a slow, bloodstained smile appearing on her face.

Vanessa didn't respond, she was too frightened.

"You have me at a disadvantage," the little girl rasped, looking down at her wound. "I'm fatally wounded. Usually I look much cuter."

Vanessa whimpered, shaking her head. "I can't help you, if my daddy sees you-"

"Your _daddy_ ," sneered the little girl, "Is a cruel, abusive _asshole_."

Vanessa was shaking, and the little girl tilted her head to the side.

"Do not be afraid, I've come to rescue you from this place. I just need a favor in return."

"R...rescue me…?" Vanessa didn't dare hope that she could escape. No one could save her, right?

"Yes. Rescue you. You've suffered so much, Vanessa. Now it's _their_ turn. If you do me a favor, just one, I promise I will bring everyone who has ever hurt you into your _darkest dream_."

Vanessa had always secretly wished that her parents could pay for what they'd done, but now that there was a clear offer from this little girl who looked near death… she wasn't sure.

"I'm _magic_ , Vanessa. I _promise_."

"Wh-wha…. what do I have to do?"

The pinkish red smile appeared on her mouth again. "I just need to borrow something of yours."

"Borrow….?"

"Your body. _Permanently_. Don't worry," she assured in a rush when she saw Vanessa's wide eyes. "You'll go to a much better place."

"Like…. Heaven…?"

"Like a second chance. I deal in chances. Here, let's flip for it. Heads, I win, and tails, you lose."

Vanessa nodded without thinking about it - she didn't realize that there was no difference in the words, but for the creature in front of her, there was plenty of difference.

She flipped the coin.

Heads.

"I win. Give me your hand."

Vanessa reached out for a second, then stopped. "They'll be sorry?"

"Oh yes, Vanessa. They'll be _very_ sorry."

As soon as their hands touched, Vanessa's spirit was propelled forward in time, being reborn into a wonderful family who never raised a hand to her. Through Vanessa's eyes, the Celestial Toymaker watched as the body she'd just inhabited collapsed to the ground like the empty, used up shell it was.

Time unfroze as she heard the stomping, and saw a dark figure in front of the shuttered closet. The door was thrown open, and the eyes of Vanessa's body changed from soft green to a brilliant blue.

"Hello, _daddy_ ," came the sound of her innocent voice. "I was gonna fingerpaint! You should help me."

"Why the _fuck_ should I help you do _anything_ , you ungrateful little-"

"Let's play a game to decide if you help! Heads, I win. Tails, you lose."

He began to swear at her, but she flipped the coin anyways, even as he grabbed her off the ground.

 _Tails_.

"You lose." she breathed at him.

Good thing the average human male's body contained around 11 pints of ….paint…

* * *

 

Vanessa's mother looked up, drunkenly, as her daughter walked primly into the kitchen. Had she just heard screams? She could have sworn they'd sounded like her husband's, not her daughter's…

"Mommy, I want to play. Play with me."

"I'm not in the playing mood, Vanessa. If your daddy finds you here, he'll wear you out."

"I already played with daddy. He lost." she said, sourly. "He didn't last as long as I thought, the way he stomped around."

"Wh….what…?"

"Play with me _right now_ , Mommy." she stomped her foot, and the woman's eyes were drawn to it. "I want to paint!"

...Was that blood all over her?

"Play with me, or I won't _like you anymore_."

The woman was suddenly filled with fear that made her stomach lurch. She breathed heavily, looking up and seeing a flash of silver catch the light coming from the streetlamps outside of the darkened house. The coin spun on the cheap linoleum, landing on tails.

"Oh _no_ , Mommy," The Celestial Toymaker said in distress, hand to her cheek. "You lost."

* * *

 

Dreams were beautiful. Dreams were unique, every person had their own little sandman and their golden dust of brilliance. But for Rose, these dreams had turned into nightmares ages ago. She was having her usual nightmare, screaming as she pounded against the white wall, struggling to get back to _him_ instead of being trapped in this miserable, no good-

The sound of regular beeping called her out of her rem cycle and pulled her toward consciousness. The sound of voices hissing near her prone body made her suspicious, curious. She began to open her eyes, and noticed the feeling of sticky squares around her chest. She glanced around, and heard 'She's awake', making her look at Owen, standing next to a strange nurse named Doris. The ginger woman shook her head in disapproval and walked away, murmuring things under her breath. _Wow. Pleasant soul._

Owen frowned at Rose, staring down at her with this strange look of betrayal as she laid back, feeling more confused than ever. Why the hell was he staring at her like that?! What had she done wrong?! Her mind was trying to piece together what had happened, when suddenly it all clicked.

She was **dead**.

Or, she _should_ be.

But she couldn't be dead, she'd regenerated…. Sort of. This first regeneration was a gift from the Tardis. It merely changed her body into a Time Lady's body, gifting her with TNA instead of DNA, perfecting her senses, changing even her mind… she didn't have the training from Academy that the Doctor had, but she had what was left of his mind's imprint on hers. The Tardis had used him as a way to imprint on Rose. His memories were meant to fade, eventually, making way for her to have all of his Academy training and the ability to be a high functioning Time Lady. It made perfect sense to the Tardis, as the Academy no longer existed. It was caput… destroyed along with many other beautiful things in the Time War.

The problem was that the Doctor hadn't given her time to adjust. The pain had not been the Time Vortex burning Rose's fragile, human mind… it had been her mind changing, her body and DNA exploding with regeneration energy and that was exceptionally painful in and of itself. The Doctor had taken a moment to truly look into her mind, he would have seen what she was truly going through. How could he _know_?!

But his interference only allowed for around one-fifth of his knowledge to remain in her mind. What was worse was that most of the information was in another language, a chimey sounding one, one that had letters she could see scattered in her mind. She could hear each… letter? It wasn't a letter, it was circles and lines, dots and clock parts… but it was letters.

 _Gallifreyan_.

The barmy Time Lord hadn't even left in her the ability to speak and read Gallifreyan! Fuck, no wonder she was so confused! She had in her so much information, a lot in English, but most of the important parts were all in an indecipherable bloody language that…. _that_ … she kind of wished her mum had hit him _harder_.

God this was worse than that time she'd met Anastasia…. wait _no she hadn't_ …. no no _he_ had but she could remember everything…. the taste of the air, the feel of the snow, the sounds of Russian… such a beautiful language….. where had they been? Ah yes, on the _Standart_ , the family shi- no, _no no, that had_ _ **not. been. her**_.

Why was this all so hard and confusing? No wonder the Doctor had been all sixes and sevens after he'd just regenerated. This was mental murder. She glanced up at Owen, and suddenly her thoughts all honed in, almost giving her instant tunnel vision. It reminded her of the times that the Doctor would finally stop babbling and stare at her as though she were the only thing in the Universe.

She tilted her head to the side, her mind making a million observations about Owen's person. She inhaled, and instantly the pheromone and hormone levels were analyzed, the depth of her new sense of smell making her stomach roil, ready to retch. She gagged visibly, and covered her face, running over to the trash can and emptying the contents of her stomach into it until the only thing that came up was acidic, and disgusting - _stomach acid, with a 46% mixture of bile_ \- fuck, her mind was so helpfully unhelpful. She wanted to vomit all over again as soon as it helpfully supplied what bile actually _was_.

Owen wasn't coming over to see if she was all right, and the nurse also seemed like she didn't want to touch her. Rose filed those bits of information away for later, choking out, "Christ, Owen, you smell like everywhere you've been for the past forty-eight hours. Don't you ever _bathe_?!"

Oh hell, there was the rudeness she'd given the Doctor such a hard time about. She should really apologize, but she couldn't help herself. She could smell the asphalt and the road dust, it was overpowering - the tar, the sewer fog, the trace scents of thousands of people that he'd bumped into along the busy streets. She could smell the sweat, both dried and semi-fresh, the way the must had soaked into his clothing, no longer masked at all by the cheap cologne he used in all the wrong places. His hormone levels and body language led her to glance at his face.

 _Ah_.

Facial expression dictated that he was most displeased. For Owen Harper, this was a fairly common state of being, his moods ranged between exceptional sexual frustration (since Ruby had insulted his manhood, he no longer wanted to go after his bar skanks, instead his sights were trained on the unattainable redhead) and increasing pissiness in general (due to a variety of factors she didn't want her mind to analyze).

Owen scowled at her, and shook his head. "No wonder you're such a freak. You know?"

Was that _death_ she smelled on him? The acrid scent made her momentarily blank on the fact that it was her own dried blood and fluids on him. Oh yeah, _she'd died._ Of course he smelled like- Wait, _wait_ \- he'd just insulted her!

"Freak?" Her head tilted to the other side as her eyes couldn't stop refocusing. Christ, she could see things she definitely shouldn't. The bits of dust floating in the air made her urge to bat at them like a kitten, and she had to fight it lest she accidentally smack herself in the face. Her mind seemed to automatically sense her trouble, and her pupils readjusted, zooming into Owen's face in a way that both impressed her and frightened her as she realized she didn't know how to unzoom. She could see his face crystal clear. Every hair, she could count them if she wanted to. She could smell everywhere he'd been, smell her own death on him. The blood from the fight, the smell of gunpowder residue, the pores in his face… that was the presence of a newly forming pimple, wasn't it? He was frowning, and staring at her with thinly veiled betrayal. He felt betrayed. Why?

"You're a sodding _alien_ , and you don't think to _tell us_?!"

Where was her pocket watch…? She began looking for it, trying to find it amongst the bits of dust she could see floating in the room… her eyes changed focus for her, zoomed in on each one in high definition. Fuck, this was annoying! She'd only thought about them, she hadn't wanted to see each one in hi-def! She could suddenly hear it, faintly, the tiny ticks in the next room.

"I want my things," she told the nurse in earnest, needing her ticks and tocks more now. She needed a grip on time, even though…. even though her mind knew exactly what time it was, what time had passed, what number this dimension was, _what the actual hell_? 00:35:42… that's what time it was...

"Is that _all_ you can think about?! Your _things_?! You lied to us, for over a _year_ , Rose. A _year_!"

"I never lied to you," Rose said smoothly, while taking her bag from the nurse. _Doris_. She had a feeling that woman would play a factor in her life, the ghost of something golden twisting in her mind. Glancing to her left, she saw Mopsy and smiled softly at his reassuring look. "I have never lied to you, Owen Harper. But please, stop calling me that. It has a nasty ring to it."

"... _Never_ fucking lied?! You're a _sodding alien_ , Rose!" Owen looked so offended, he was ready to spit nails. "Wait, call you what? I haven't called you anything, not that I wouldn't _like_ to!"

"Rose. It leaves a nasty taste in my mouth for you to call me that. Too familiar. I don't like it." As she said she didn't like it, her mouth formed a moue, and she felt quite petulant. Everything in her mind screamed that her name, her birth name… it was _private_.

"...What's your real name then, _alien_?"

Rose pulled her pocket watch out from her bag, smiling softly at the sound.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

Forty two hours, nineteen minutes, forty three seconds. Her time sense was back in order, even though she'd never had one before. It just clicked in. The current time was 00:42:02 London time, and she was feeling quite peachy keen.

"You know," she murmured, while smiling at the face of her watch, "I don't know. I'll let you know when I figure it out, though. Until then, I suppose Rose shall have to do."

Owen shook his head at her. "Why didn't you tell us you were an alien? Like we would have treated you any bloody _differently_ -"

"You _would have_ , but I was not an alien at the time. I became one. It's a big long story, very complicated. I honestly don't want to get into it right now. But I swear to you, Owen. I was a human being."

Owen wanted to believe her. He was so off kilter since she'd died in his arms, he just didn't want to be a dick to her anymore. He'd lost the ability to be one. She noticed the way his shoulders slumped, and he stopped looking at her defensively.

Good.

She felt relieved, and watched the nurse excuse herself. She'd have to keep her eyes on that one, she didn't trust her for an instant. Something about certain people just left a bad taste in one's mouth, and the redhead tasted rancid.

"This happen while you were with the Doctor, then?"

"Yeah, it did."

"Just wait til Ianto gets _this_ paperwork, huh?"

Rose's eyes crossed. "Oh, _hell_ …"

* * *

 

Five minute checks, fifteen minute checks. Half-hour checks. The nurses were required to announce themselves.

At first it was annoying.

The door would click open.

"Checks."

The door would snick shut.

Checks. Checks. Bloody checks. Everyone began on five minute checks, but could graduate to ten minute checks, fifteen minute checks, half hour checks, and hour checks. Of course, if you were on hour checks and your roommate was _not_ , it didn't matter what level you achieved. Just how they knew where you were. You could avoid the obnoxious interruptions if you sat in the living room or outside of the nurse's station. They would just glance in and exit. But if you were in a padded room, instead of a dorm room looking thing that they got upstairs? Your little mailslot looking slat would be opened, and glanced in. "Checks." Then it was slammed shut.

Five minutes was a trifle of time. Hardly enough time to collect one's thoughts between the next intrusion of space.

* * *

 

"I thought I was supposed to go to the library," the curly haired human plus insisted, raising an eyebrow. "It's what you said. I worked my arse off to become an archaeologist so that the Doctor could- I was supposed to deal with that, and the Doctor wanted to see me about some singing hills… I have things to see to-"

Ruby rolled her eyes from her chair, spinning in the black leather ergonomic before kicking her boots onto the solid oak desk. Humans and their last reaches, clings to life, even when they'd already decided to end their own. The entire room was made of concrete, and dark save for the few bits of technology that existed there. There were flat screens, showing different people's lives, from floor to ceiling on two walls.

"You completely miss the point of rewriting history when you do things like _think_ , Miss Song."

"I'm still a pro-"

"You're _nothing_ , now. We're rewriting you, and anything you used to be is _nothing_." The cutting tone of Ruby's voice sent a tremor of finality into the room. River sat down for a moment, not usually one to be intimidated but she'd agreed to the terms, and she still wasn't certain what this woman was. She just knew she was more powerful than her.

A giggle that sounded like it resided deep in someone's throat sounded in the room, and a little girl with blonde hair appeared in the corner seemingly out of thin air, wearing a copy of Alice in Wonderland's outfit, down to the white tights, black Mary Janes, and hair bow. She held a stuffed Cheshire Puss in one hand, a silver coin in the other. She was lying with her back on the ground, her legs straight up in the air against the wall, ankles crossed, feet dancing to an internal melody.

"Crystal, so kind of you to join us," Ruby stated in a deadpanned tone that belied her words. If the other occupant was at all offended, she didn't show it.

"Oh, you know. Onyx was boring me to tears so I came to see my _favorite_ sister," she stated airily.

"I'm only your favorite when I have food or I'm doing something more interesting than our other siblings. Want to try again?"

"Oh fine, you caught me. I love seeing rewrites that show such _promise_. Besides, Onyx is so obsessed with the current turf war between satellite moons on Tuscador, there's only so much enjoyment one can get from that before they become… bored."

"You didn't murder enough people?" Ruby raised an eyebrow at her sister, and River felt the cold itch on the back of her neck. She was even more worried now. She'd agreed to be rewritten, not to be _erased_.

"Oh please," Crystal huffed, nonchalantly. She glanced at her fingernails, pursing her lips. "They were _men_ , not _people_. It's not the same. At any rate, I hate it when my toys all break..."

Ruby made an elegant hand gesture of agreement, and pursed her own lips. "I assume you've figured out we are not human."

River nodded slowly, and Ruby's lips twitched as she glanced up to the other corner, seeing a younger black woman with a close cropped pixie cut, wearing a very well fitted pantsuit. The large button on her blazer was gold with an amber faceted stone in it. Her pants were a bit too long, hiding most of her gold strappy stilettos under the fabric. The look on the woman's face was what River would denote as prim, but not unforgivingly so.

"Goldie. Good to see you. Boringly punctual as always." Crystal chirped from the corner, using an exceptionally antique looking sterling silver spoon to dig into a pint of Ben & Jerry's Half Baked ice cream.

"I'm three minutes _early_ ," Goldie stated plainly, an elegant eyebrow raised.

"Yes, _yes_ , like _always_ ," Crystal muttered in exasperation.

"Who the hell are you people?! Really." River finally gave up, she had to know. This felt like a group of cats playing with a mouse in a small room.

Goldie looked unamusedly at River, shaking her head in disdain at her sisters' lack of tact. "My sisters and I-"

"We were once _great_ , you know," murmured Crystal, around a mouthful of the confection. "Augh, why do you humans prefer to eat this under the influence of such mind altering substances?! You never taste it properly…"

"You engorge yourself needlessly," Goldie muttered in a bored tone.

"We still _are_ great, but the problem is that we are trapped in a form of purgatory. The Time War decimated the Time Lords. Without them, what we can and cannot do has become _limited_. If there were more than _one_ , we could have more movement to be able to save them and re-achieve full reign of the cosmos."

"You want me to help you rule the cosmos?!" River stood up, instantly. She was brave enough to stand up to these people.

"How could _you_ help?" Crystal muttered scathingly from the corner, glowering at the woman before getting another spoonful. "You can't even help _yourself_ , let alone us."

Ruby continued where her sister left off, her words filled with more bite than anything else. "Or do you actually think of yourself as a Time Lady? Just because you're a human plus doesn't make you a Time Lady. Nowhere near. You'd still be nothing but an _ape_ to them. Because you don't have the genetics to actually make you a complete enough Time Lady to count. You aren't even half, not even a quarter. They'd pull you in for testing that'd be more invasive than anything Kovarian ever did to you, and then dispose of you somehow. Lock you away until your years finished. Believe me, _pet_ , they'd finish pretty quick. Or they'd just forcibly regenerate you, if you still had any left. Your little gift of regenerations was a kindness given to you by Goldie. A kindness that came at a cost."

Goldie smiled a barracuda smile, walking over to one of the screens and watching a woman screaming in pain as another woman bashed her skull in. River's stomach churned, her entire abdomen feeling cold with stress and shock. Goldie watched, shaking her head in disappointment, as though the messiness of the death was the only thing that truly bothered her.

Another person came out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. She was the woman who had bashed in the woman's head, her strapless sapphire blue dress conforming to her body seamlessly, partially hidden by a white leather biker jacket. She had nude colored nylons on as well, covered in dotted spray of blood and mud from the pouring rain where she'd just been, and a pair of ankle boots that matched the dress by color. Her teal hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but the short, choppy unevenness of her haircut made a lot of stray hairs stick out. The shade it'd been dyed made her caramel skin look even brighter, a golden glow to it. Her white leather gloves were stained with blood, and she pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a banged up silver zippo, calmly.

"Must you _always_ be so _messy_ , Azura?" Goldie hissed in reproach.

River's stress level had risen a few notches to say the least. She'd seen everything she'd thought possible due to her adventures with the Doctor, her parents, due to Kovarian… but this, this was new.

"I was in a rush. You sent me to do a thing, to deal with a death to maintain balance. I was _late_ , and I know how you hate _that_ …"

Goldie rolled her eyes before looking up at River. "Do you see what we've been reduced to? Making time flow by _ourselves_ , without any help from our abilities… it's exhausting."

The other three nodded, making noises of empathy.

"We're Guardians," Ruby murmured, narrowing her eyes at Azura's smoking. "I am the Red Guardian, the Guardian of Justice and Truth. Hence why I tell you the truth, even and especially if it hurts you. Crystal is the Crystal Guardian, the Guardian of Dream and Fantasy."

"The Celestial Toymaker, I'm called…" Crystal whispered, dreamily.

"I am the Gold Guardian, Guardian of Life and Death…" Goldie murmured.

"I am the Azure Guardian, the Guardian of Equilibrium and Balance," Azura said with a friendly grin on her face, the cigarette between her teeth. "The Six Fold Gods of the Six Fold Realm, enlighteners, transcendental beings."

"Masters of reality," Ruby said with regret. "We have two other sisters, Diamond and Onyx. The White Guardian of Light and Order. Structure. The Black Guardian, of Darkness and Chaos."

"The upper echelons of the Great Old Ones. A pantheon within a pantheon," Crystal supplied. "We're one short though…. we were supposed to be seven…" her whisper was one of regret. "We exist so far out of time that our loss happened before and after the Doctor even entered the Academy. It happened thousands of years ago, millenia ago… and just forty five minutes ago..." The look on her face was temporarily one that was crushed and broken. Of all of the sisters, Crystal and Hecuba were the closest. Hecuba often chose teen bodies, so the two truly looked like sisters.

Azura walked over to her, past River as though she couldn't care less what River did. River realized that she couldn't move from a combination of shock and being time frozen to the spot. Who held her? Ruby was paying her extra attention, it might've been her. River being held by Ruby was the only thing keeping her from vomiting. She could feel everything that had been in her stomach curdling, she couldn't handle this. The anxiety and stress was too much.

She tried to swallow the acid back, but Ruby finally released her in time for her to upend her stomach contents onto the asphalt below her. She retched, on her hands and knees, trying not to look at these people. The Celestial Toymaker made a noise of repulsion from the corner.

Azura raised an eyebrow as Goldie handed River a handkerchief, casually. "Clean yourself up. Surely you've seen other fantastic creatures on your adventures. Dangerous ones."

River nodded slowly, but it didn't have to be said that the Guardians were different.

"Don't let the fact that we can erase you from existence stress you at all," Crystal singsonged.

Oh, that helped. River wondered for a moment why they were telling her all of this, then she figured it out. They were alone. Together, but so alone. They felt powerless, they felt how she had with Kovarian all those years, only trifold. They wanted someone to tell, and River was a safe bet, considering her entire life was being rewritten.

Azura stroked Crystal's auburn locks, murmuring words of comfort. "We all miss Hecuba. We shall strive to find a suitable body for her to inhabit after we are back to our former glory. ...Would you like to play with your toys?" she murmured, tilting her head. Crystal nodded, and the two of them sanctioned off, speaking to each other in hushed tones.

"I gave you regenerations because you are foolhardy. But you will be instrumental in bringing us back to our former glory. You were meant to sacrifice yourself, to save the life of the Doctor's tenth incarnation. Instead, our Hecuba did so… her power was the only one that could handle such energy necessary, just as the Doctor could have… it took her life."

The screens all changed to the Tenth Doctor looking at the platinum blonde woman charming the Doctor, knowing that he could sense her energy but didn't know why it felt so familiar.

"I trust him with my life…" she'd stated, the terror of the shadows, looking up at Donna with surprise she hadn't genuinely felt… " _You're_ Donna?!" and even demanding of the Doctor that he knew who she was. She'd been genuine about that part, at least, wondering that the lost Time Lord wouldn't know what the self proclaimed Queen of Time looked like… who she was. After that, the role was simple. She'd taken his place so he wouldn't die. He'd yelled her name, but he'd called _her_ Professor Song. But she hadn't introduced herself as River, merely as Professor Song, never giving him a first name.

But she _had_ known his true name. She was a Guardian, how could she not?

River turned and looked at them, before looking up at the screen as Hecuba disappeared into nothingness.

"I'm sorry for your loss, but what's going to happen to me? You took my death…"

"We took your entire life," Crystal hissed. "My sister gave up her life for all of this, and saving you just happens to be a way you benefit. Silence should be your friend."

"Play with your toys," Azura murmured comfortingly.

* * *

 

Two o'clock on a Saturday in November, in a room that reeked of old cigarette smoke, the food between the pages of each magazine, and the acrid smell of the underbathed. She stared at the decor… cheerful room, Rose's hind foot. The magazines were from last year, the rug was green spotted shag, the plastic chairs were the cheap orange ones found only in elementary schools, and the table was a plastic one from a cheap outdoor furniture set, covered in slices and names. The broken backed yellow sofa made of velvet and covered in rips and cigarette burn holes just added the cherry on top - this was a room in a looney bin.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

Rose had gotten to know a few of the people who resided here, some of whom she'd known or met beforehand. Her roommate's name was Clara Oswald. The girl had an interesting feel about her, an energy that had made Rose uncertain about her. She swore she knew her almost, maybe, but of course not. She didn't know. She drummed her fingernails on the sofa, all things considered, there were worse roommates to have than just some girl who'd been orphaned due to a car accident as a child and then became a pathological liar.

Pathological liar… Rose's mind lit up as the reasons behind the pathology clicked for her. The girl seemed nice enough, at any rate. She glanced over to the side, seeing one of the other girls. Martha Jones. A plucky thing, she was labeled as obsessive compulsive, with an inappropriate attachment to her father, meaning she was in love with him. His opinion of her meant everything to her. Mr. Jones, however, was blissfully unaware of his daughter's undying affections, and thus simply thought he was blessed with a daughter who truly was a people pleaser. Martha was determined to become a doctor, because her father was one, and he wanted her to be one as well. She spent all of her time studying her medical books.

River Tam was Dr. Tam's sister. He'd only signed on to work there because he'd been trying to help her out. Unfortunately, Dr. Tam had learned the hard way that disobedience would not be tolerated. He had yet to come out of solitary, a fact that drove River crazy. She was written as a sociopath, something she seemed to find quite amusing. She was often in trouble for one reason or another, and was exceptionally skinny due to the self medicating she had done to forget what Torchwood had done to her as an experiment. Of her diagnosis, she had told Rose: _We are exceedingly rare, and we are usually men._ She hadn't seemed that attached to it, however. River didn't really attach to anything. When Donna had had trouble letting go of a broken doll that had been owned by a previous roommate of hers that had met a hairy end, River had tried to be logical with her.

_It's only an object. It doesn't mean what you think._

Donna was a special case. She had a childlike quality about her, a gentle kindness that none could truly name, because she was covered from head to toe in burn scars. She never seemed upset about it, and often took on the role of cheering up everyone else in the ward. Rose smiled lightly at the thought of her, trying not to consider what could have happened to her.

Rory walked by, he was a nurse who had sold out. He was there for the same reason every other nurse, orderly, and doctor was there…. because Torchwood paid you well to fuck over people you used to work with. But Rose had a sneaking suspicion that he'd come for another reason. Best to watch him.

Amy Pond was the last one. Well, the last one that she associated with in this ward. Everyone else was a mixture of unsaveable and unfixable, they were all so crazed on the medications that these arseholes put them on…. but Amy did have problems that were legitimate. Amy never had a good self image, and for her, the loss of her parents had been too much. Her aunt had raised her to the best of her ability, but the way she'd always impressed so hard on young Amy, the only form of control the young redhead had found was food. She suffered from anorexia nervosa and a constant reach for the impossible, or at least the highly improbable.

A loud patient began screaming the word "FUCK!" over and over again, so loud that it echoed down the hallway.

Hearing the sets of screams made Rose think about releasing the megaclamp, her stupid, stupid hand… she'd her lost grip, she'd lost the Doctor, she'd lost her original universe, she'd lost it… her palm looked just like a human being's palm.

 _You look like me, Time Lords came first..._ her first Doctor's voice came to her mind.

The crinkle of the three lines running across it and the way her fingers could curl in, making those folds and lines… this hand had been the one that belonged in the Doctor's… it seemed so _simian_ to her now, as a Time Lady. It felt awful, but her genes became so to match some of the most overbearing, 'far too evolved for this' prim lot ever in existence… some of it rubbed off.

She spread her fingers, trying to look more like a Time Lady, but it was so tiring to hold her fingers apart so wide to look so perfect. She let her fingers relax, but then she saw the wrinkles in her palm again, so much more defined… she felt like an ape. Flipping her hand over, the back wasn't much better. It was this hand, with the bulging veins and the slight yellowish pale tint to it due to her sudden weight loss in this place. This hand, this _ape hand_ was to blame for being too weak. This was the hand that had failed her. The skin around her knuckles looked too wrinkly and loose, and if she moved her hand, she could see three prominent bones showing her movement, the ones that stretched from wrist to knuckle.

...Or were those tendons? Did she have bones? Was that why this hand was so weak that it had failed her? She poked one of them, finding it to be resilient. It was probably a tendon. A second poke made her wince; she'd poked the vein hard. Underneath the tendon, there had to be bones, _right_? She poked deeper, trying to find these bones, these terrible deceivers, allowing her to believe they would be stable if she'd needed. Liars.

Liars.

She started getting agitated, worrying about the location of her bones. What the hell?! She put her hand in her mouth and bit it, hard. She was trying to see if she crunched down on something hard. Everything slid away from focus as her Time Lord brain began to analyze the taste and feel and take an internal inventory. There were nerves, there were blood vessels, tendons… all of those things were so slippery and elusive to her. She began to scratch at the back of her hand, trying to get a flap of skin up so she could rip it off and stare at herself like a bloody autopsy. She had to categorize. A word chimed in her brain. _Categorization_. This word pleased her Time Lady self to her bones.

_Bones._

She wanted to see if she had a regular hand. She couldn't get her hand to open up and let her in. She put her hand back into her mouth and chomped, _hard_. Success! A bubble of blood came out near her middle knuckle, where her incisor had pierced the skin.

"What the fuck are you _doing_?!" Amy hissed at her.

"I have to find my bones. There are no bones in my hand. No bones." Rose whispered.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" shouted the other woman.

"Stop it." Amy growled.

"It's _my_ hand! I grew it _myself_!" The hand of failure in question was bleeding profusely as she continued to dig at it, compartmentalizing the pain so she barely felt it. Stay on task, her Time Lady self said.

"You have bones, you're Gallifreyan." Martha insisted.

"Do I?! Do I truly?!" She was panicked, beginning to breathe heavily. No air, there was no air. There was no air. Her vision was becoming spotted, she couldn't get enough of a lungful. The world felt like it was spinning, and her mind told her she would lose consciousness if she didn't begin to respirate. Suddenly, her respiratory bypass kicked in, and her vision returned to focus in time to see that Donna had fetched a nurse. A stinging pain told her that her hand had been ripped open enough that if she'd gone a layer of skin deeper, she would have given herself nerve damage due to her haphazard method.

Doris stood in front of her, holding a small plastic cup filled with what was definitely Thorazine. Rose's nose told her that instantly.

"You gonna make it easy on yourself, love, or you going to make a scene and get an injection in your eyes of this?"

Rose took the plastic cup, staring down at the Thorazine. Mopsy stood next to her, and gave her a pleading look, asking her to just take it, just give in, he'd be there for her, he swore… her hands trembled as the weight of everything came down on her. _My fault, my fault, my fault, these hands..._.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

She threw the cup at the nurse, having the briefest pleasure of seeing the green medicine decorate the side of her face before she was grabbed by two orderlies, kicking and screaming. She was shouting in Gallifreyan, the chimes and pops of the language expressing perfectly her anger, and she was slammed into a wall as she bit down on one of the orderlies' hands.

"Fucking _bitch_!" he swore, slamming her head into the painted brick wall of the hallway.

She was dazed for a moment, long enough to give them a better grip on her, and they used a pillowcase and a flatboard to papoose her as Doris prepared the syringe. She swore she heard cheerful whistling off to the side, her vision scrambling and showing her Dr. Chambers leaning casually against the nurse's station, enjoying his view as he whistled Twisted Nerve. It echoed off the walls sluggishly, sounding so far away and so close at the same time. As she met his eye, she felt him, something in her mind snapped, and she could feel him. From the shark smile he sent her, he knew it. He felt her too. The emptiness was assuaged by someone she didn't want to be connected to.

The last thing Rose remembered seeing was the flash of the needle as it went into her eye, and she did the only thing she possibly could.

She screamed.

* * *

 

Entering her flat was something interesting, and that was being polite about it. Now that she had better than hi-def vision, she seriously had qualms about her cleaning skills. Although nothing was ever clean. She could see things on everything, as soon as someone wiped something clean, fresh dust dropped upon it in this never ending cycle of terror. The word terror popped into her mind, then seemed to pop out it, it looked like the word was written right in front of her, in beautiful handwriting. Rose blinked a bit, before grabbing hold of a notebook. She wrote, and her handwriting had changed - it matched the script from her head. It was beautiful. She began to print, and the writing came out perfect, even at regular writing speed. Her muscles felt more capable, more trained _the Academy was very insistent that, although the art of penmanship was one both long dead and just coming into being, it be learned and imprinted within each Time Lord_ \- who the _hell_ said that?!

Mopsy murmured "Professor. The Professor was a Professor at the Academy."

 _Of bloody_ _**course** _ _he was._

_Tick tock. Tick tock._

She no longer needed to count the seconds, time was able to break down quite simply in her head. Time, Time, Ti…. oh, shit - she couldn't control the rush of images her mind was sending her. They were all right in front of her, both taking over what was happening in front of her and _not_ , she was trapped, at the mercy of this. Time, time, but which time had she meant? A set of equations presented themselves to her, and she stumbled in her own flat, tripping over a table and hitting the ground, _hard_. Looking back at the table, her mind began a new set of equations to explain her fall to her.

"Stop it…" she whimpered, not sure whom she could go to. How could she control this? Why did the smell of breakfast suddenly appear?

 _Synesthesia_.

Her brain was quite helpful with this supplication. Synesthesia… from the Ancient Greek σύν _syn_ , "together", and αἴσθησις _aisthēsis_ , "sensation"... it is defined as a neurological phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway… The automatic and ineffable nature of a synesthetic experience means that the pairing may not seem out of the ordinary. This involuntary and consistent nature helps define synesthesia as a real experience. Most synesthetes report that their experiences are pleasant or neutral, although, in rare cases, synesthetes report that their experiences can lead to a degree of….

"Sensory overload…" Rose murmured, holding onto her head. Mopsy's image was bouncing everywhere as her mind was moving at a million miles a minute. "What do I have?" she was confused, but her mind readily explained it to her.

_Spatial Sequence Synesthesia, for starters._

That had sounded just like the Doctor, her pinstriped one… she looked up, able to see him smiling as he sauntered across her vision, giving her an explanation. "Those with spatial sequence synesthesia, also called SSS or triple S, I like that… triple s…. anyhoo... tend to see numerical sequences as points in space. For instance, the number 1 might be farther away and the number 2 might be closer. People with SSS may have superior memories; in one study, they were able to recall past events and memories far better and in far greater detail than those without the condition. They also see months or dates in the space around them. Some people see time like a clock above and around them. You're a Time Lady now, Rose. You see time constantly, you can pull it up at any time. It exists all around you and is wrapped in you. All Time Lords have this, so when human beings have it, it's special. Unique. You also have number form synesthesia, a number form is a mental map of numbers that automatically and involuntarily appears whenever someone who experiences number forms thinks of numbers."

Rose looked around in a panic, but she could see it. Changed memory, the way just thinking about numbers brought up a quick map of them…. she was uncomfortable with the changes, even though logic told her that she would become accustomed. Her past memories were imprinted perfectly, each one like a pristine photograph - she could remember every conversation had around her as an infant, some memories were definitely facts she hadn't wanted.

_There is a reason this is not a common human condition, this memory._

A tear slid down her cheek as a memory of her parents fighting over her father's indiscretions with a few women around the Estate came up, and he stroked Rose's cheek.

"Do you know why I love you, Rose?"

She'd waved her hands at him, making gurgle noises.

"You're the only thing I've ever made, only thing I've ever done, that I've ever been any good at, that has ever been any good. You're my miracle. You're my masterpiece, my magnum opus. You're the greatest thing to ever come from me… and I'm scared that someday I'm going to have to leave you, not see you all grown up. If I could see you all grown up, and see you turned out all right despite me… I could die happy." He held onto her, and then Jackie started yelling about getting to the church on time.

It'd been the reason he was ready to die, willing to, at that same church. She'd accidentally given him his last wish, and he'd then given himself permission to die.

She glanced up, seeing her leather coat wearing Doctor looking at her with a soft smile. "These things are normal for Time Lords, it's how our brains function. However, for you, it's different. Your mind started out human, Rose. You have to learn to process it. Right now it's overwhelming, but eventually it won't be. Eventually, you'll be all right."

Rose whimpered, she could see the clock in her vision. Position, velocity, acceleration, force, mass…. the entirety of physics ran in front of her eyes faster than she could process it, every number, letter, and symbol white and glowing in front of her face. She was trying to crawl, to get up, but it was so overwhelming she couldn't stop stumbling.

"S….stop it… it's too much…" She tried to close her eyes against the images of graphs of time's measurement dependent upon the device, it's accuracy, the force with which it moved, the mechanisms of each sort of clock and implement….

_Until the invention of the pendulum and the development of reliable clocks during the 17th century, the equation of time as defined by Ptolemy remained a curiosity, of importance only to astronomers. However, when mechanical clocks started to take over timekeeping from sundials, which had served humanity for centuries, the difference between clock time and solar time became an issue for everyday life._

"Shut up, shut up, shut _up_ …" she whimpered, covering her ears against her own mind. She began to sob, her mind wasn't going to stop.

Things started building up as she tried to ignore it, trying not to hear anything, not to absorb it. That made it _worse_.

She thought about how the Doctor acted, he would often begin rambling when his mind was going too quickly, even at the risk of rudeness or strangeness. Maybe that was the answer. Mopsy smiled behind her, nodding at a red pen, right on an empty notebook she'd bought for work. As she looked at each item, little equations and their specific formulas for being popped up next to them, in the white glowy writing.

"Sodium hydrosulfite…" she whispered, as the chemical formula appeared in front of her: Na2S2O4. That was a white crystalline powder with weak sulforous odor, used to bleach the waste paper to create new, recycled paper for the notebook. C19H29COOH and C19H29COONa for the sizing, and… oh Christ, she couldn't believe she used to _chew_ that stuff as a child, paper was mostly pulp, and any of around 3000 chemicals used to process and fix it into paper and recycle old paper into new paper and Jesus, only about 200 had been used for this particular… she picked up her pen, ignoring the chemical formulas popping up, and began to write down each individual chemical formula and equation for every one of the 3000 chemicals used to make paper or recycle it, and its process. She began to graph and chart them, then ran out of paper and had to fetch another notebook from her box. She had 10 notebooks, all blank for work. Soon, each one of them was completely full.

By that time, she had run out of ink for each of her pens, and was quite pissy. She was in the middle of doing physics, for fuck's sake. Actual physics. It wasn't that she felt smart - okay, maybe a bit clever, but to be fair, she'd never felt like a genius before and to be honest, while it had definite drawbacks… it felt _really, really_ good too - it was that her mind was trying to calm down. Things were silencing a little bit as she analyzed every single detail to exhaustion.

She didn't know how she'd moved from her notebooks to standing on this table, writing on the wall…. but well.

There she was.

* * *

 

Alice Carter's sobs were the only noise coming from the area, even the noises of the general area seemed muted as Jack watched his daughter, his dead grandson in her arms. His entire body was seized, he'd lost everything… he'd lost Ianto so many years before he'd ever planned to, he'd lost Tosh… he didn't even want to get into Harper. He wished he were already dead. He should never have given over those twelve children in the first place, and now his grandson had taken on all of his sins and paid for them to save so many lives. Jack was so numb he didn't even have the ability to feel the loss. His daughter was the same, not even speaking a word to him, just giving him the deadest look he'd ever seen.

Jack suddenly felt his system seize for a different reason; every single cell in his consistently regenerating body on high alert in a way he'd never before felt. Goosebumps decorated his entire body, and his hairs stuck on end. He could see his daughter felt the same, her eyes widening even more - she'd had enough happen to her, to them; she didn't need whatever this was _too_.

Time slowly froze, the wind stopping in the trees and their own bodies stopping movement. Jack couldn't move, neither could his daughter, and she was frightened, he could feel it. He couldn't even speak to her, not that he would have known what to say to her. The entire scene changed into something blank, something far away, and it was only he and Alice, holding his grandson's prone body, amongst snow. He could feel the cold freezing his skin, the slight kisses of each flake that landed on him, but not move, still. Alice was looking at him, eyes getting wider.

Something was _behind_ him.

The very power behind it felt like… two sources. One of them he felt connected to, the other he felt… it felt different. It felt distant.

He saw something he could only name as miraculous in that moment of time - his grandson's spirit was standing next to his body, looking behind Jack as well. He just stood, silently, as though incapable of speech, incapable of even trying. Jack felt his eyes burning, the flakes on his lashes combining with tears. His daughter was crying as well; not having been able to see anything of the sort, living her decidedly normal life.

"I know you," breathed an ethereal voice from behind him, a voice he'd know from anywhere.

_I bring life._

Rose.

She stepped from behind him, slinking around him like a cat, wearing a strange outfit. Her wavy hair had it's bangs pulled to the side in a braid, a very large overshirt on her, covered in holes, and a long skirt tied in a knot at one side, with a pair of boots and dark leggings. The khaki overvest had large cargo pockets, and she definitely didn't look like herself, save for the golden-eyed stare that had haunted his dreams.

Steven tilted his head to the side, watching Rose stare at him. "My blood knows yours," she clarified. "I was there, when your grandfather died. I looked into the darkness of time, and gave it a firm 'no', for it could not take him. Not my Jack. Not Jack."

Steven held her stare as she stepped closer to him. His daughter whimpered, but there was nothing Alice could do. A strange, high-pitched giggle was heard from behind him, and Bad Wolf glanced back, staring at the other woman. The voice matched the giggle, nearly musical, but almost sickeningly sweet in its higher pitch. It sounded frightening, if he was honest. Too innocent. Couldn't trust it.

"Your journey is almost through. Hurry up and get the boy. Ensure the future."

The words made Jack panic internally.

"I have been on a long journey, Steven. Absorbing the time vortex has gifted me with plenty of knowledge, different places, different times… different things to make right. I have created a large stack of dominos, little one. I am short of time to set up the last few dominos, let alone to push them over so things fall into place. Do you understand?"

If the boy understood, he didn't say so. The sickening voice piped up again.

"We _need_ the boy. If he refuses, perhaps we can change his mind."

"Diamond." Bad Wolf's voice was stern sounding, despite the ethereal quality. "Jack's blood is my blood. I gifted it to him, his descendants shall not be harmed."

The colder tones, almost machine-like, were the only way Jack wasn't eager to hold her or touch her. This wasn't his Rosie. This was Bad Wolf.

"Who said his descendant had to be harmed? We could rip his father to shreds in front of him. He is not of your blood. I could go backward in time and give his grandmother stage four lung cancer and watch her rot from the inside out. Make it unbearably slow. I don't care," she half squealed with pleasure in her own ideas. "Just as long as the time lines set properly."

Bad Wolf seemed to ignore her, kneeling in front of Steven. "My blood sings in your veins."

His grandson looked down at his own bloodied body, before glancing back up at her.

"Fret not for your loved ones, I shall not allow The White Guardian to harm them. You died to save so many lives, you are so _clearly_ the blood of my blood. You give me such pride."

She reached her hand out to him, speaking with words so imbued with power that Jack could feel the vibrations deep within his body. "If you want to come with me, you can help to save even more people. More lives can be saved, and this eternal night will be ended. If you come with me, we shall put right the timelines, and ensure that those who would do wicked shall be judged, and those who are deserving shall receive a reprieve. I will give you a special gift for your help, Steven Carter."

The little boy stared at her, and reached up, taking her hand.

The sound of the city came back, the snow was gone and Jack and his daughter were able to move. His daughter's loud sob was the next sound he heard as he looked up and saw that his grandson's body was gone.

"Where is he?! Where is he?!" Alice sobbed, and the giggle was heard again.

Jack whipped around, seeing a woman with soft white skin and wavy blonde hair, eyes such a pale blue that they looked almost translucent. She smiled huge, but it didn't reach her eyes. She wore an all white fur lined and belted rotita dress jacket, a pair of white Mary Jane style stilettos on her feet. The white gloves she wore made her hands seem even daintier, as she was quite an overdressed slip of a woman. She wore silver and diamond snowflake jewelry, keeping it prominent on herself.

As though she thought herself some sort of a snowflake princess.

"Oh stop your crying," she said, grin widening, if it was possible. "Things are in place. You should be proud to have been chosen, Alice Carter. Such an unremarkable girl, such an unremarkable woman. Nothing special about you at all."

"Don't speak to her that way!" Jack snapped, standing in front of Alice protectively.

"A bit late for the heroic father act, don't you think, Casanova?" Diamond's hands went on her hips, and she pursed her lips playfully, shaking her head as though admonishing him.

"Don't worry. If you're not careful, you'll be cursed with remembering this even though it will have never happened to you, but don't worry. _She_ won't. Now you be a good, good boy, Jack Harkness. Be a good boy and _go fetch_."

She disappeared into nothingness, the timelines erasing and readjusting themselves.

Jack woke up in his office at Torchwood in a cold sweat, confused about his dream. He could have sworn… the memory of it was fading fast, but it felt important…

He looked up, smiling softly as he saw Ianto at the door, muttering about something Tosh was up to. Somehow it felt like he hadn't seen them in a long time, as though he'd lost them.

But that was impossible. He'd remember that.

...Right?

"Hey Jack," came the sound of his love's voice. "You have someone here to see you. A doctor, according to her. She said she knows the Doctor."

"Who is it?"

"She says her name is Dr. River Song. She has a message for you."

That feeling prickled down his spine again, before he nodded at Ianto. "Send her in."

* * *

 

Nail clippers.

Nail file.

Cuticle trimmer.

Penknife.

Swiss Army Knife (The one her uncle gave her when she went camping). Pin (the one she was given upon finally receiving her A-levels in this universe – with a golden "R" written in calligraphy, and two pink pearls. All in all, quite classy).

Her gold stud earrings – "You _can't_ be _serious_!" – "It's the _backs_ , see? They're _sharp_ , see?" the nurse would show the stubby little darts of the backs. Backs no one on the outside would consider to be a weapon at all – but on the inside, they spelled _opportunity_.

Don't forget that belt of yours, either – " _What?! My belt?!_ " - "Don't you worry about a _thing_ , honey. It's the buckle that's the culprit, maybe you'll put your eye out with this part of the buckle, the really pointy part that goes through the holes and fastens."

Knives…. Well knives were the obvious bit. Scissors, things of the like… things you couldn't take on an airplane because they were weapons, you know? But forks and spoons…. Knives and forks and spoons.

She wasn't even allowed cutlery. This place fucking _sucked_.

Royally.

Usually they ate with plastic. This was fine with Rose, as she ate with plastic when she got take-away for lunch anyhow. Continuous take-away at this hotel of theirs.

Cutting old, shoe leather-esque…. Well, she supposed it had once been _beef_ …. Or had beef-like qualities, at least… with a plastic knife, then scooping it onto a plastic fork because the tines were a) weak, and b) shortened – it was sort of a demi-spork – and after a while she simply stopped consuming the food there. At first it was semi-decent, but then the taste of the food began to change. She began to feel sick as she noted that she was a being that had reached puberty and was disallowed metal cutlery out of fear of her using it to take her own life. Eventually, the paranoia had set in about them poisoning her, but not before the loss of further humanity.

One month the plastic cutlery truck had been late somehow, and so they were forced to improvise. They'd ordered next day delivery – the only cutlery that was available, bemoaned Doris, was the cardboard kind. If Rose or any other tenant in this hellhole had thought that plastic cutlery had been infantilizing, they'd thought so prior to the cardboard. It appeared sturdy, but the wax gave way easily, and one could feel the grit of melting, clotted cardboard in and out of their mouths as they ate. It was enough to make Rose never want to eat again. Accidentally chewing wax made it worse.

Haircuts didn't happen. They had, at first… but a few incidents of escape attempts later, and Yvonne Hartmann had decided that it was too big of a liability. Eventually, all hair care had just disappeared. Bathing still happened sometimes. Once a week. Nothing too terrible. But if one wanted to remove any body hair during one of these hygiene excursions, one needed proper clearance. Their psychiatrist had to fill out a form permitting them to remove their own body hair, and of course with _adult supervision_. Rose found this out her first week, and was cleared via Julie. She knocked on the nurse's station window; the large, windowed cubicle looking like two or three police boxes put together - and wasn't _that_ a painful unit to measure in? – and ended up having to knock four times before the small slat window was pulled aside. She felt like she was at the DMV.

"Yes?" There was Gladys. She was polite enough, but a tough old bird. Her brown ringlets went every which way when they weren't covered by her nurse's cap.

"I want to shave my legs… and a few other areas." Rose felt a bit of heat coming to her face, which her system told her was embarrassment due to being raised in a society wherein a young woman's place made certain hygienic or aesthetic bodily modifications difficult to speak of, let alone ask permission for.

"One moment." The slat closed, hard. Rose scowled at this, and gave Mopsy a look like 'Can you _believe_ this?!' He shook his head, and watched.

Rose knocked on the window again, hard. The slat was opened again, Gladys giving her a tight-lipped glance of disapproval.

"I'm going to the showers right _now_ , and want to shave _right now_ ," she insisted. Rose had gotten good at insisting in her life. Growing up in the Powell Estates with _her_ mother, one complained loudly or one was quickly forgotten about.

"Let me check your paperwork, I need to see if you have permission."

"What am I, _twelve_?!" Rose snapped, before an internal mauve alarm warned the young Time Lady that despite her new feelings of being ordered around by apes, she was at a genuine disadvantage and needed to play nice. What was that? _Survival instinct, enhanced through generations of genetic selection_ , her mind filled in for her, helpfully.

"Rose, are you going to be _difficult_?"

"That is _not_ my name." Rose breathed, before finally relenting. "I have permission from Julie, she said I can shave. _Supervised_."

"Let me check and verify that, and you'll be able to." The slat clicked shut. _Shit_. At the mercy of upper middle-aged women with unfortunate hair choices.

"I'm going to the showers _right now_ ," Rose insisted, and did so just so she couldn't be called a liar.

In the showers, she felt like she was in prison. All of the girls, ones with their own nurses because they hadn't earned the right to go anywhere without them, many of them in the showers. The small brick separations only went to one's upper thigh, and the showers were in circles of multiple showerheads – either way, you were still bareassed in front of multiple women of varying levels of psychiatric care, most of whom hadn't needed it before being trapped here.

She stood there, under the shower water, when another nurse came in, just glancing around to do checks and a headcount.

"Checks," she announced in a bland voice, as she was required.

"Hey!" Rose called. "Where is my goddamned razor?!" She was fed up with their version of hospitality.

"I'm just the nurse on the checks, I don't know what's going on."

"I'm supposed to shave my legs and stuff now!"

"Not my problem." The door snicked shut.

After another few minutes, a younger woman came in with a plastic chair, and sat down by Rose. Her look was around as enthusiastic to watch Rose shave as Rose felt to be watched.

"…Did you bring my razor?"

Rose watched the girl remove it from its plastic covering, and she handed it over with some shaving cream. After a while, Rose stopped caring about her legs, or her underarms, or her lady bits being covered in hair. Anything was better than being inspected while you're shaving your lady bits.

* * *

 

Ruby Storm hummed a bit as she was on mission, leaning on the roof of another building, looking through the scope of her assault rifle. The song she hummed was one Rose knew really well, and she smiled widely as she began to get into the groove from the other side of the roof, only using a pair of binoculars. She found guns to be highly unpalatable, and was insistent that she not have to use one, team leader or not. She was quite fortunate that her team was so understanding of her new quirks. Everyone was surprised when she'd told them she was an alien, and explained what kind she was to the best of her ability. She didn't go too far into detail about it, but she gave her team enough so that they could know and also trust her. She'd realized that by hiding so much, they'd only had rumors to go on, and that wasn't fair. She couldn't ask these people to lay down their lives without giving them honesty.

That wasn't to say that they weren't surprised, but they were as understanding as could be. They'd already seen her dead. After that, priorities changed.

"I keep hearing you're concerned about my happiness. All that thought you're giving me is conscience, I guess. If I were walking in your shoes, I wouldn't worry none. While you and your friends are worrying 'bout me, I'm having lots of fun!" Ruby sang, beginning softly, then with each lyric, she began to get a bit louder.

Owen, back at the base, smiled softly at the intercom, clicking his headset on. "You're clearly working too hard, Storm. No one to wag your arse in front of?"

"I would, but you appear not to be present."

Wait. Did she just flirt? He did a double take at the intercom, looking at Ianto, who had both eyebrows raised.

"Why would my presence bother you?"

"Well, you being here would allow me to show you what 'in my league' actively looks like. I don't have time to take cell phone photos and draw you a chart, some graphs…"

"Fuck off, Ruby!" he snapped, glowering a bit at the intercom as the rest of the team began singing a bit, on the roof, in the dark, in the rain.

_Counting flowers on the wall,_

_That don't bother me at all._

_Playing Solitaire till dawn,_

_With a deck of fifty-one._

_Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo._

_Now, don't tell me I've nothing to do._

Owen smiled softly at the intercom, hearing her voice. She was growing on him, like a fungus. "God, I can't wait to quit this fucking job," he muttered in derision, thumbing his nose as he went back to work sterilizing the medical tools.

"Oi, I can see Tinian's wife at the motel!" came the sound of Tosh's voice as she looked at the footage.

"No fucking way," Ruby muttered, then let out a sound of disgust. "Holy shite, she's there. With the lawyer."

"What?!" Owen called out, surprised that their fellow agent's wife was being untrue. "Is she having sex with him?"

"After a fashion, I'd say so," Rose murmured.

"Hmm. Any requests? I mean, I have a gun," Ruby stated, plainly.

"Hah, yeah. Shoot the lawyer in the dick, and Tinian's wife in the head," Owen joked, darkly. "Never put up with a cheater."

"Hey," Ruby responded, cheerfully. "I can get that in one shot."

Everyone made varied noises of pain, from hisses to 'eughhhh's.

"What?" Ruby asked, voice rising in pitch. "Too soon?"

Owen looked up at the team photo on the wall, noticing for the first time that Ruby was the only one not looking directly at the camera. Had she been looking at him? Or Ianto, who was standing right next to him? He scowled as he glanced across the room at the other man, now inexplicably pissed.

Rose blinked a bit, before readjusting her binoculars. She could see someone standing on the ground, in the rain. They were holding a bracelet, and it glinted in the light. It was a little boy! His blonde hair and school uniform looked familiar to her, but she couldn't place how. Nothing about him made her internal scanning ping, it was just a feeling that she _should_ know him. He was far now, and was mouthing a word at her. No, no, two words. Two words.

_Tick tock._

He was mouthing 'tick tock' to her?!

She looked up at the clock on the tower near them, then looked back to the boy, but he was gone. Blinking, she glanced back at the clock, suddenly seeing the graffiti painted on the side of the watch face. The circle, with the circles mixed into it like cogs of a clock… she tried hard to read it, but it wasn't until she stopped trying that the symbols began to glow in her mind adjusting and readjusting themselves until they formed two words in Earth English - _the Moment_.

Tick, tock indeed.

* * *

 

As a Time Lady, Rose felt newly qualified to announce to the nurses that they were murdering time. They did so in such a clever way – slowly, chopping the pieces off it and tossing them haphazardly into the kist. "Checks," they would announce in a lackluster tone, and you would realize another five minutes of your slow path was gone forever. Slipping through an hourglass like sand while you were turning away, shocked outside of time by the horror of the walls around you. Where had your mind been? Was it on an adventure? The brain did amazing things when it wanted to, and when it sent those messages saying that the current situation on the outside world was too painful and traumatic to be handled, often times human beings and other lower creatures were given the benefit of entering a mental state wherein their short term memory slipped through their fingers like water and their perception of things worked into an epic, beautiful mental story like listening to one's favorite song with their headphones on while walking down the street. They numbed to the sounds of the nurses, but Rose never could. Being genetically superior allowed her to be ripped out of any brief reprieve because her mind was in survival mode, and new noises put her system on alert.

It never stopped, not even at night. By the time Rose was trapped in the padded cell, she was on half hour checks. The slam and snick of her slat with the hiss "Checks" became a lullaby of sorts. When she did sleep, it infected her dreams. Normally, however, she did not. Her life was measured in standing around a padded room, speaking to someone who was not there with the word "checks" sprinkled in for good measure. She would stand so long, speaking to Mopsy, her knees would lock - on the security cameras she swayed as she spoke until an orderly got tired of hearing her while he was on patrol at night and used a hotel kit to sew her silent. The threads dug into her lips, one digging into the splice in her bottom lip where the chapping became too much. The sting of pain reminded her she was still alive, her genetics made to survive far worse than this. Whether this was fortunate remained to be seen.

_Bang._

"Checks."

_Snick._

* * *

 

As soon as Rose's pen ran out of ink, that was the bad part.

Her irritation at it made her think about the last thing to truly annoy her - the red of the ink became a blur of blood in her mind, and suddenly she was shot mentally into the worst place.

_The Time War._

Her mind supplied it, and she was forced to relive billions of images at a high speed through her mind, seeing not only the people fighting, struggling against the Daleks, but seeing the destruction that they caused. She could taste dust in her mouth, feel the disgust as she tasted every element and chemical in the dust, some of them were blood, sweat, tears… she could see children being murdered, feel the pain in her mind of having so many other Time Lords in it - _full, that was how full her mind was supposed to be_ \- and suddenly feeling the pain, the cold emptiness… she could feel it as each of them was ripped from life. Regenerated, it felt like death, a hot knife in her mind. She couldn't just hear and feel their pain, she could see their faces, feel their essences, each scream…

She could see a Dalek near her, she swore… she screamed and launched herself at it, hearing the crash of glass. She was fighting, screaming for a set of Time Tots to run. She screamed it in a language that she didn't truly know, but the language felt powerful. She could feel each syllable she expelled, it tasted like time, sounded like chiming, and felt like golden energy into the universe. The word she screamed told them to run, she knew it did.

She began fighting, using her bare hands. Her sonic screwdriver was gone. She couldn't let them kill those Time Tots, not _again_ , no no… it was too much pain, she could save them, she _could_! She fought, clawing at the metal beings until she could feel her fingernails starting to shred. She threw things, fought beings from other planets that the Dalek's Emperor had convinced to fight for him - or join those he crushed.

She screamed, screamed until she couldn't make noise anymore.

She was running through the jungle, hearing the explosions getting louder. Crashing through a door, she ignored the splintered wood, struggling to get Leela and Andred's children out. No, they couldn't die, they couldn't…. her sweet little savage's descendents had to _live_ , they were such a part of her! She could still remember meeting Leela….

"Andred! Andred!" she howled, able to smell burning flesh and melted metal. "Leela! Leela, where are you?!"

Unable to see beyond the smoke, she'd crashed into something - porcelain? Porcelain wouldn't be in a jungle! - and felt sharp pain as it shattered. It felt like something was splintered, and it was entering her skin at multiple points. It was confusion, in reality it was a shattered top to the back of her toilet. She stumbled over her own feet, which were cut up from the shards, and landed in the bathtub. For a moment she was stunned, her mind registering all of the different pain receptors. She could hear a scream coming from somewhere else, and shouted after it.

"Leela!"

She'd ended up running again, scrambling out of the bathtub, struggling across the floor, and crashing through two more doors and destroying windows trying to get into places to check on people she cared for. She couldn't _find them_!

She whipped around, looking at a middle-aged man who was smiling lightly at her.

"Boy, Barbara and Susan both seemed to have taken to the Aztec culture quite amazingly, haven't they? Instantly prized!"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at his idiocy. Intelligent apes just didn't seem to exist. "Of _course_ Susan was prized. She's Gallifreyan. We are of a higher caliber, something you should keep in mind, Mr. Chatterton."

"Chesterton," Ian grumbled.

"Chasterman," she sniffed, eyes to the sky as she strutted ahead of him.

Her steps didn't have to be heel to toe, but damn if she wasn't doing it, flaying the cane with a bit more pizzazz. She swore, having these humans around certainly worked to bring the ginger out in her. Ginger. Hm, she really hoped that when she finally regenerated for the first time, she'd be ginger. Steven…? No.. Steven was gone… Polly… where was Polly? She was so weak, on the ground. Her poor body, it was so ancient, she couldn't move…. but the Cybermen… they were going to hurt people. People like Polly, people like Ben… she couldn't allow it. Brax...

She was going to regenerate...

She inhaled deeply, looking across a war-torn path ahead of her, shouting loudly as she was being dragged away by the guard.

"LET GO!" she screamed, back in that musical language. "Zoe! Jamie!"

She couldn't stop fighting, in order to save the lives of Zoe and Jamie, and she knew, in order to save her precious grandchildren, they'd forcibly regenerate her for her interference… but it was worth it to ensure their safety… her mind whirled, the pain of regenerations, the losses, the faces, the pains of her mistakes… but oh god, they weren't even _hers_ , they were _his_ …

Liz. Jo. The Brigadier… Her precious yellow Bessie.

She struggled to chase them, trying to keep the Daleks from them. The Time War was taking everything, it couldn't take them too, she'd save all she could… Sarah Jane, Harry… their faces went by in her mind, but something important stopped her. She was standing, wearing an obnoxiously long striped scarf, standing next to Romana. The man who was all in white staring at them, giving them the orders… something about him made her mind whirl -

After she'd taken the heart of the Tardis into her, she'd met that man, only the body he'd stolen was that of a woman. He was a Guardian… the White Guardian… he would do anything to ensure the timelines ran smoothly - even if it meant lying, cheating, stealing… or causing the deaths of people. The Black Guardian, on the other hand… while he wanted to cause suffering, he didn't often lie about it.

The pains of losing Adric, of dealing with Nyssa and Tegan popped in, followed by suddenly seeing herself in the mirror, choking poor Peri.

"PERI! PERI COME BACK! PERI, I'M SORRY, PLEASE! I SHAN'T DO IT AGAIN!"

Why were they hiding?! Oh, Ace, she was so sorry to have been so sneaky. She was just trying to help! Couldn't Ace see that? She was worth so much more… Suddenly being kissed by Grace, oh, that was nice. She rather enjoyed kissing! Charlie, oh she was wondrous as well, but as much as she'd thought she was in love with them, she hadn't been at all. She'd just been in love with the thought of being in love. But oh gods of the universe, she'd met someone while dealing with the war. Back when she thought for sure that she could never be the Doctor ever again… she'd met this plucky weapon…

No no, that had been _her_ meeting the Doctor… her name…

She'd given him her _name_!

Fighting against the Daleks, but she couldn't truly feel anything but sharpness and pain. But something about knowing her own name, what she wanted to be called, what she truly felt like… something about that gave her some form of balance.

By the time she woke up and realized that she'd been hallucinating, the damage had already been done. She'd gone through the Doctor's life, felt his pain, but much of it felt far away, like her mind had exploded and she'd seen everything as a part of her regeneration. She felt pain in her hand and looked up at it. She was laying down on the carpet… and she had a large, bloodied shard of glass in her hand.

She'd used it because she was out of pen ink….

Slowly opening her eyes all the way, they auto focused, looking at the walls. They were covered in scratch marks, writing… a lot of it was mathematical equations, some of it was Torean, which she could easily read, and a lot of it was Gallifreyan, which she could not. She looked at the walls, seeing that some of them had extremely detailed galaxies sketched onto them, including one on the ceiling that brought her instant pain to her head.

It was the Kasterborous System.

All of the pain of losing every person who had brought feeling to her head was instant and searing. It made looking at the entire flat she'd destroyed due to her hallucinations feel almost good. Everything was destroyed, just like her - _his_ \- no no, _hers_ , she was a Time Lady and the Tardis had chosen her! Her Tardis…. possibly, their Tardis…? The Tardis had been destroyed after the Time War… and she had felt good looking at it, knowing that it was as destroyed as she'd been. No no, as he'd been.

Blimey, it was all so confusing. No wonder the Doctor had become all arses and elbows after his regeneration.

She slowly stood, noticing she was already healed. It must have been some time for her to have been out.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

_65 minutes and 42 seconds._

Glancing around, she ignored the fact that her walls were so covered in writing and equations that they were in shreds. All of her lamps were broken and trampled, her television was busted. Walking from her living room, she noticed the entirety of the carpet was decorated in finely ground glass shards. It looked like diamond dust. The tables were destroyed, her fridge door was hanging precariously off at an angle, it's innards busted and splayed in a sea of color; and none of it healthy looking. How the hell had her faucet busted off? Every window was broken save for the sliding glass door, thank the heavens.

She walked past the hallways, holes in the wall from her fists and feet. The toilet was busted in the bathroom, and she stepped over the shards as she looked for her reflection.

She had… definitely looked better.

Broken lines across the mirror only served to make the tear and blood streaks staining her face that much more obvious. Her hair was in disarray, and she began to pick debris out of it. Ew, was that a chunk of ceiling? Not okay. Her mind analyzed its chemical makeup while she rolled her eyes and attempted to ignore it. Her life had definitely taken one hell of a turn. She didn't know what to do, feeling so mixed and blurred from her life. A thought suddenly struck her mind, clear as a bell.

She was alone. No one would ever know how she felt, because Time Lords did not exist in this universe. No one would know what she was experiencing, there was no way to express her pain, or to have someone teach her. She fought the burn in her throat, even as she felt an echo behind her eyelids. Saline… no, no. She couldn't give into the emotion… but finally, she just let go and sobbed, unable to hold the noise in. Rose slowly made it to her bedroom, the bed frame broken, part of the mattress sunken in. Parts of the ceiling were on the bed as well, the ceiling fan on the floor.

She laid down on it anyhow, going into the fetal position so she wouldn't have to look up and see whatever star system she'd carved into the ceiling. She wanted to cry until she couldn't anymore, but at the same time, she wanted to express something other than sadness and torture.

All she had left that wasn't broken in this house was the cheap ass bottle of wine that Ianto had given her to celebrate their last successful mission on her birthday. Oh well, she knew that she wasn't a sad drunk...

Shite.

* * *

 

 

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

"I likes my pills, I do, I do. I don't know what you're complaining about I don't," the cockneyed man's voice broke through the soft muttering of the irritated Martha Jones, who was trying to study her medical textbooks. No one had the heart to tell her that this asylum meant she would never get her medical degree. They'd sooner kill her.

"Good for you. Did you hear that, the bluidy idiot likes his pills, he does," the Scottish redhead standing next to Martha responded with a glare. "Literally, nobody cares."

Rose was sitting next to Martha on the couch, watching as Amy moved through her periphery, but she was mostly staring at the television that didn't work. She didn't care about whatever squabble was going on. It made the other aliens appreciate her presence more. They liked staying around other aliens, especially a Time Lady. In a battle of us vs. them, everyone present was either an alien or an alien sympathizer. Martha was present for helping to keep Rose's secret - something she felt no minor amount of bitterness for. Amy was there for a case of mistaken identity. Rose didn't want to hesitate being involved, she could feel it in herself, that echo of a girl who truly cared. But it was hard to care when these people were trying to destroy innocent people, herself included… just for the crime of existing. She used to always ask for everyone's name. Now… she couldn't even care enough?!

Hey, what was the name of that male nurse who looked at Amy with such a weird longing?

Oh yeah. Rory.

"You do realize that you just accepting the chemicals they've you dependent on is just following their little plan, don't you?" Martha hissed at him, her dark eyes narrowed in disgust. She couldn't believe how easily the homo sapiens seemed to fall under dependency of these drugs. The aliens she'd had on her table for her internship had never been so susceptible. Worrying her lip for a moment, she began another trial of attempting to bring reason to the wiry addict sitting at her table. "Every time you speak they diagnose you with some psychosomatic _disease_ and prescribe you more. The chemicals in these displace the delicate chemical balance of your brain. You shouldn't ought to treat someone for a chemical imbalance they haven't got, or you'll _give them one_."

"But I needs my pills!" he shouted, becoming more flustered. He was easily flustered by life, but with someone purposefully antagonizing him, it was easy to see how he could be in the beginning of a meltdown. "There is so many diseases out there! Lots of em, chock full of em, the world is!"

"Fuck," hissed a woman who sat down right next to Rose. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

_Jesus, he's getting everyone uppity now._

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

"Some of the diseases, they starts in the brain, then they travel to your eyeballs! Then from the eyeballs, they go to the shoulder blades, then the lungs, and the knees, oh lord don't forget your cock too! COCKATOO! COCKATOO! Then they go to the foot, and your foot turns blue-"

"That's called gangrene," Martha hissed at him, in between attempted medical explanations. "If your genitals are falling off, that isn't a regular form of the disease!"

"I COULD TAKE MY PILLS AND MAKE A PILLSHAKE, LIKE A MILKSHAKE! COCKATOO!" the man shouted, standing up so fast in his excitement that he flipped his chair from behind him and began to dance, spinning around in front of the broken TV and wagging his behind from side to side.

Rose exhaled, feeling very put upon, one eyebrow slowly raising. "'m tryin' ta watch Mr. Belvedere," she snipped at the bloke, in a singsong tone.

"Some of the side effects aren't so good though," he responded cheerfully, looking right at Rose.

"'m sorry, were we conversing?" she responded, looking up and seeing Amy roll her eyes, pulling a cigarette out of her scrub bottom pockets.

"Listen, shit brick. Nobody cares!" Amy hissed, offering a cigarette to Rose after lighting one up herself and taking the first drag. "You up for one, Mo?"

"Stop it! Sit back down!" Martha snapped, trying to put the contents back into Pandora's box, so to speak.

"Some of the side effects to the medication I take are sometimes nightmares, and sometimes diseases, like Key Lime Disease or even Bengay Fever! Oh, oh, and sometimes diarrhea, constipation, bleeding from my fingernails, oh my fingernails…. my poor fingernails! My ears ache. Sometimes I get headaches, migraines, thrombosis, also meningitis and then kidney failure and eventually, death. But I got pills to cure the death, so I take those."

Rose tilted her head to get a better look at the man, a gangly thing, thin as a strip of bacon with bright red hair and a weird smile. He must have been quite a polished worker at one point, likely a suit, as he lacked the battle scars. She was regretful at her ability to see his pores due to her enhanced eyesight, wishing she could feel more compassion spring up inside of her body for this poor creature in front of her as she lit her cigarette, enjoying the mix of toxins and carcinogens that she could taste with her enhanced senses. She wished she could care, but her mind was on survival mode of some sort… her brain saw people and assessed them in forms of triage. He was too far gone to save. Martha was assessed as still having the brain capacity, still being of semi-optimum health, like Rose was. Amy was as well, but her mind told her that the two were more than capable of self-destruct.

She glanced at Amy, nodding slightly in a silent form of thanks as the rush of nicotine invaded her senses momentarily.

"It's blokes like this that make me second guess myself, Moment; as if I should have known far better than to stay on Earth, once I knew I'd options, you know?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "S'apes like tha' make me second guess even wakin' up this mornin'. Shoulda bit through m'tongue last night, not had to been here for this whole conversation, yeah?"

Mopsy shook his head sadly, trying to tell her no, trying to tell her not to think like that… but his voice was so mute amongst all of the static in her head. Amy smirked in response, before frowning as she heard something that Rose heard an instant later. The nurses came out with orderlies to grab the now hysterical man, yanking him up and injecting a sedative. He silenced after a slew of screamed curses and fighting, and Rose rubbed at her temple while continuing to stare at the broken television, humming the theme song to Eastenders.

* * *

 

"Rose for the love of God, sit _down_. I can't handle this crouching in a chair thing you're doing. It's off." Jackie snapped, worriedly. She'd been told about Rose's death and rebirth, and she knew about what Rose had been turned into. The x-rays and scans had frightened her, and it had all come true… it was too much.

Rose, for her part, pursed her lips petulantly at her mother. "I can't sit like normal people can, it reduces my deductive reasoning capability by 49%."

Jackie felt a twitch begin in her forehead. Christ, it was just like talking to himself. "What the _hell_ did you do at your flat?!"

"I went home, got to thinking, redecorated, and then had a fruit salad for dinner."

"A fruit salad?" Pete questioned, amused.

"Mostly grapes." Rose supplied with a smile. "Actually, over 75% grapes. It was all grapes."

"So you just ate grapes…?" Her father tilted his head as she stroked her pocket watch.

_Tick, tock._

"Fermented grapes."

"Ah," he nodded slowly.

"I had wine for dinner," Rose stated, unhelpfully.

"That is _not_ a dinner!" Jackie snarled.

"Oh _you're_ one to talk about not partaking of alcohol," Rose snapped in return, glowering at her mother. Due to the years of her mother on and off benders, Rose always got a bit prickly when her mother began bossing her around. Even if she was within the realm of logic, like she was now, it always rubbed Rose the wrong way.

"I know you were bloody drunk, Micks told us about the phone call you two had!"

"Phone call?" Rose wrinkled her nose in thought, suddenly recalling a small clip of it.

* * *

" _Rose, it's 6 am, how are you drunk as a skunk?!"_

" _I'm not futhin' drunth, Micks, stop bein a shite ferrit…."_

" _I'm a shite ferret?! Rose you can 'ardly talk!"_

" _Shite! Fer! It! 'M naw futhin' drunth, Micks, 'm jus'... I jus'... I 'ave a speech impedimen'..." she'd been cut off by retching into her kitchen sink, making a disgusting (if she did say so herself) 'hurfthhhh!' noise as she did so._

" _Ah yes, you sound completely sober. All righ', Miss Speech Impediment, wanna explain that one?"_

" _Yeah. I…. horf…. I… ptui… I like a challenge…." she spat out the extra bits still on her tongue into the sink. "I 'ave a speech mpedimen…. n'... the flu! Yes, I've the flu." she let out a screech as her brain, attempting to zoom in where she needed it, forced her to auto correct and end up slamming into a counter, sending her sprawling unceremoniously on her ass, on the linoleum. The phone was spinning a bit on the floor a few inches away from her. She could hear Mickey's question from the phone._

" _Oh I also have an inner ear infection!" she called out, to explain the fall. His snort told her she had done a dreadful job of convincing anyone. "Christ, why couldn' 'e 'ave taught me how to do the bloody insta-sober trick he did on Crylon 4…?!"_

* * *

"Mickey needs to learn how to not be a tattletale, s'all. No one likes a narc."

"So you're…. so it's true then! You turned into an alien! Just what I feared!"

There was her mother, the voice painfully scraping her eardrums. Good god, she'd often been annoyed with her before, but now she just took the cake in a bad way.

"Mum…" Rose sighed, heavily.

"Don't you _mum_ at me! You gone and turned yourself into an alien, and I lost my baby! You're just… gone!" Jackie began to raise her voice even higher, turning toward hysterics. Rose could smell the emotions in the room, and that was enough to raise her discomfort level.

"Mum, this isn't about you! It's about you in that I'm your daughter, but it isn't about you. It's about me. I _died_ , Mum. Do you care that I died but I'm alive now, or is it all about how I'd be better dead than an alien?!"

"Rose, literally no one thinks that." Pete soothed, reaching up and touching her arm, rubbing it gently. He brushed her hair away from her face, and as his fingers connected to her temple, she was suddenly immersed in his mind.

Rose twitched, letting out a cry as she realized she couldn't control where his mind was going. She was surrounded by his thoughts, feeling pelted by images and words as though they were snowballs being launched. She struggled to find something, but the breakneck speed in which she was drowning in his thoughts only served to scare her. She couldn't hear his own sound of pain. Of course he was in pain, it radiated across his mind.

She was diving through his mind without finesse, without experience, and her speed and gentleness was impacted by her terror. She saw memories of his fly by, some of them of work, some of the last mission he'd been on, and a few she'd rather purge her brain of, of her mother in a pink chemise calling him a 'naughty boy'.

The connection was broken by Pete yanking his hand away, and it felt like she'd been tasered, collapsing to her knees and struggling to find some form of upper ground as Simmonds explained that touch telepaths who are untrained don't understand how to have physical contact without entering minds. Pete was apologizing to her, but she jerked away from him, trying to gain some distance after such intimacy. No, not intimacy… invasion. She felt invaded, and felt like she'd invaded his privacy as well.

Once they'd calmed her down, Jackie began to talk to her daughter. It felt, to Pete and to Rose both, like the first time Jackie had ever actually spoken to her. She was speaking to her as a person, with full respect for her in that way. No qualms about it. It was a very beautiful feeling, one that Rose stored in part of her heart. The warmth blossomed in her chest as she was finally able to speak to her, explaining that she'd felt lost for a long time. Jackie had told her that she could see her flagging, see her in pain, and she just hadn't known what to do.

"I failed, Rose. I failed you as your mum. There were ways I should have, could have intervened. I should have tried to get you help, but I didn't want to think about you being so depressed. I didn't want to think on it, so I just didn't…"

Rose nodded, not needing her to finish. Some people couldn't quite handle things like this… especially when it was their own child involved. It didn't remove Jackie's culpability in it, but Rose felt her own responsibility in it as an adult. But she did try to assuage Jackie's guilt.

"So, you're a big Time Lady now, yeah? Kinda like… graduating from human to Time Lady."

The false cheeriness was appreciated, Jackie was trying really hard to be happy for her, to make it easier on her. She could also feel her interest. The Doctor hadn't spoken to her much on what it was to be a Time Lord, to be fair.

"Time Lords, they go to school for centuries, mum. They go to a school called the Academy, and they stay there centuries. When they graduate, they pick their name."

Jackie nodded, slowly. "Well, didn't you say that you got so much of the Doctor's knowledge in ya, like… centuries worth?"

"Yes mum. It's just all about unlocking it. It happens, I guess…"

"Happens to _who_ , Rose? Just you and your crazy lot is who it happens to!"

Rose actually found herself laughing, and she nodded slowly. "I suppose."

"So then… we should celebrate. You may not have graduated it, but you deserve to have, at any rate. I… Pete! Grab some champagne, we're gonna celebrate, yeah?"

Pete waited for Rose's look, and when she nodded, he went off to grab some brut. He popped the bottle, then poured some into each of the three flutes. Rose swirled hers around in her glass, the white glowing chemical formulas letting her know what each thing was made of, and popping off with definitions of why the bubbles were present. She took a sip, enjoying the explosion of flavor on her tongue.

"So," Pete murmured, breaking the silence as Jackie drained her glass. He refilled it casually, before sticking the bottle back into the ice bucket. "If I'm not mistaken… you should choose a new name then."

Jackie turned and looked at Rose, her face filled with unspoken emotion and her eyes glassy. While she didn't want her daughter to no longer be her Rose… part of her always would be. But now she was something else… and Jackie had to let go of her sentiments. She put on the pair of wrist-length white gloves on, and then took her daughter's hand, stroking it gently.

"Go on, sweetheart. No matter who you are… you'll always be my daughter. I'll always be so proud of you, because you… every day, Rose, you make me so proud."

Pete nodded, looking up at her and waiting.

"The Doctor chose his name because he wanted to help. The Master chose his name because he wanted to rule. But I choose mine because of the way my life seems to have broken down. My memory…. my vision is so different, but it's just an enhanced way of the way I've always seen things. Of every important instant. Every important person, every second. Every moment."

Jackie's lips trembled, and she reached behind her to grab Pete's hand in support.

"I am… the Moment."

The tears made it down both mother and daughter's faces as all three drank in toast to that, and the Moment looked down, sitting on the velvet chaise. Stating her new name felt brilliant in the regard that something seemed to snap in place in her, and she felt like she was no longer intimately splayed for all. However, now she felt this large separation between her now and her as a human. It hurt, simply because it no longer hurt at all.

* * *

 

The Doctor frowned a bit, adjusting his bowtie and watching the large group of students as they went en masse through the lunchroom. He was looking for one student in particular, politely attempting to seem like he was listening to the other male volunteer tutor. What had his name been? Joseph, definitely Joseph. Okay, maybe Joseph.

"And don't forget, some of the kids try to break uniform code while they're in tutoring, you have to report that. The office takes it _very_ seriously. These Estate kids are lucky the Crown pays for this education that won't benefit a one of them…"

That made the Doctor wrinkle his nose. How rude! He was scanning the crowd, looking for the girl from his dream. He just had to convince himself that Rose was all right - seeing her when she was younger. He wouldn't speak to her, or even touch her, not at all. He figured he'd found the perfect way to just be close enough to _see_ her for a week, but not to actually interact - he'd work as a strings instrument tutor.

He had three students under his tutelage - and he glanced at the first name. A cellist named Jordan was the first, and the boy honestly needed a lot of tutoring. He worked hard, but no one had taught him how to read music. The Doctor worked hard to give him the beginnings of Music Theory, and by the time their hour was up, Jordan seemed quite a bit more chipper about learning. His next hour was spent with a different boy named Corwin, who truly didn't want to be there. His parents forced him. That hour couldn't pass quick enough for the Doctor. He enjoyed his fifteen minutes of a lunch break eating his favorite snack – Fish fingers and a bit of custard. He heard the door open, and sighed around his fish finger.

"I'm still on lunch for another 14 seconds!" he protested, weakly.

"Sorry to bother ya, but 'm not gonna wait round outside for another fourteen seconds."

He whipped around, fish finger dropping from his mouth and bouncing on the tile floor droopily as he stared at the young woman he'd been trying to avoid.

"'m here for science tutoring. You Joseph?"

Rose. He couldn't breathe, every single picture in his mind clicking together at once, ending with her sobbing on the beach.

Her hair was shorter, in soft waves that barely brushed her shoulders. The blonde was soft, it looked like the soft gold dye had just grown out, into an ombre look before it was cool again. He ached to touch it, zooming in on her younger, but still tough as nails cognac eyes. She was perfectly in uniform, from her grey button down cardigan, the soft white button down dollshirt underneath, her chickwish green plaid skirt, and her Doc Martens Mary Janes, a solid black. Jackie had to have dropped quite an amount to be able to afford it, but it looked like it was built to last for Rose's time there. Her makeup was so light that it was hard to believe it was the young woman that had first entered his Tardis with such thick foundation.

"J-Joseph is next door, I tutor strings…"

"Orchestral strings? You must be John then…?"

"Doctor John Smith, yes… you play?" His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Rose had _never_ mentioned playing an instrument beyond that she'd played something in high school but her tutor had been fired, and then she'd quit high school.

"No," she murmured, looking up at him.

"… Joseph is very full, so how about I help you with your sciences?"

"You tutor in strings, though…"

"I'll teach you a stringed instrument, Miss Tyler. It'll help you with maths and sciences." At her skeptical look, he rushed to reassure her. "No, I'm serious! Music is very much about maths, lots of counting. Scientific, too. The reasons the strings resonate, the way you play, it's all very sciency and mathy. Trust me. If you didn't mind, I could tutor you in both." _Fuck_ , his mouth ran away with him at just the thought of being able to spend time with her - a two hour a day guarantee for the next few days just felt _necessary_ , and now…

"Oh," she looked weirded out a bit, but seemed to find his logic was sound.  _Good_. "Well... if you're certain I won't fail, and I can walk away with a new talent... I suppose then that'd be brilliant, thank you." she smiled, her teeth so white and lovely. She always had a charming smile.

The realization that he was the tutor that was going to be fired settled in right about when Rose opened her science book. When she saw what he was eating, the plucky girl that he knew and loved shone through yet again. It made his hearts ache.

"What's that cream bit...? Is it gravy?"

"Custard."

"You're supposed to be a tutor." It was a statement and a question.

"I am, yes."

"Supposed to be smart, are ya? Wif that prissy accent on ya?"

He bristled. "I am." How did she always manage to drive him spare?

"Eatin' fish fingers dipped in custard ain't too smart there."

"Says the young woman who has never tried it before. Not every delectable food is haute

cuisine, Miss Tyler."

"Think you're quite impressive, you do."

"I know I'm impressive."

Now how familiar did _that_ feel?

"Shall we begin?"

"...How about we skip the sciences and maths altogether?"

He grabbed the violin he'd been using to help tutor, and his book on Music Theory.

"Rose Tyler, how about you show me how brave you are, and pick up this instrument?"

* * *

 

River Song stood at the other side of a desk, taking in the handsome captain as much as she could. She knew her entire life revolved around the Doctor on a severely unhealthy level, and as she looked at the man in front of her, she wondered if she'd even ever explored whether she even liked men that way at all, or if it had just been the Doctor.

"So Ianto says that you have a message from the Doctor. Why should I believe you?"

"Because I have proof," River snapped, hating that yet another person being an ass to her was interrupting her thoughts. Over the past few days, she'd had it up to here with everyone messing with her. She had yet to see the fruits of her work, but this was supposed to be one of the last things she'd have to do. It sounded crazy, but she wanted her mother.

"Show me this proof." Jack waved his hand in an elegant gesture.

She held up a Tardis key, walking over and setting it on the table.

"All right, I'm listening." His mouth was tightened, and his usual devil may care grin wasn't present on his face. This was odd, because he did have a woman in front of him.

"You need to save a life tonight." River said, holding up a vortex manipulator. "Are you willing?"

* * *

 

Donna's eyes slowly opened and she glanced up into the scared eyes of the girl… no, no the Time Lady had left an imprint of herself on Donna. This was _Rose!_ The Doctor's Rose! She called herself something else, though… She could see that they were hiding, in her car. Donna's breathing was labored, just having woken up and had all of her memories returned. The Doctor… her best friend. He'd saved her by removing so much of her… it just hurt, knowing that she'd been existing in such a bubble of pain for so long, being so lost, and it turned out that there was legitimately someone out there with all the answers.

Not some god, not some twist of serendipity, either.

Just an alien man.

One who deserved Donna's size eight pump along his right bumcheek.

Why was she so frightened?!

"R...Rose…" she stammered, looking up at the woman, who was still holding her hand. Why was she holding her hand so tightly?! The blood and dirt were rubbing onto Donna's skin. She must be so frightened…

_Because I can't speak. Stop calling me that._

She was _in_ her _mind!_

"Get outta my head, Space Girl!" she snapped, her memories bringing out the ginger in her, but she instantly regretted yelling at someone who had obviously been through so much hell… especially since she had already been wrong about Rose when she'd splayed her purple jacket about, flaunting it in the Doctor's face when she'd first met him. She'd felt like such a jerk over that.

_I wish that I could, but I can't. I haven't gone prancing around in it, before you worry. I just can't communicate with you._

Donna's eyes went to Rose's lips, sewn shut. They'd been sewn shut for quite a while, and appeared to have already begun a healing process. They needed to be cut out, but Donna couldn't do it, only a medical professional should. A flash went through Donna's mind of a young, 19 year old Rose giving the Doctor a ration of (well deserved) shit for not being warned that the Tardis was telepathic. "Your machine gets inside my head, it gets inside and it changes my mind and you didn't even ask?!"

"All right, Space Girl."

_Why are you calling me that?_

"I call Himself that too, you know. I call him Space Man, cos that's what 'e is. You don't want me to call you Rose, so you're stuck with Space Girl."

 _I have a_ _**name** _ _, you know. Like the Doctor does._

"What is it? I've met two Time Lords, thanks. The Doctor and The Master. Who are you? The Surgeon? The Domme?"

_I am the Moment. ...the Master…._

Images from the Doctor's past pulled up different images and regenerations of the Master, none of them his previous form. Donna was able to witness these images, blinking a bit as she saw them.

"That's him? How 'e used ta look?"

_Yes._

"How do you know that? Were you with the Doctor then?"

_No. It's complicated._

"You an' him and that stupid word. Complicated. Eugh."

_I can see why he chose you, Donna. You make a fine companion._

She smiled a bit, then frowned when she saw the Time Lady was smiling as well. "Don't smile with that through your lips, it looks painful."

_It is, thank you for noticing. Do you have any more questions?_

"You said I make a good companion. Did you have any of those? Companions, I mean."

_I have only had one. His name is Steven Carter._

"Where's he then?"

_Busy at the me._

"Busy at the _you_?! Busy as in… wait, did you just make a joke about your name bein' the Moment, and him being currently occupied?!"

_I was worried it might go over your head, but you're quick enough, yeah._

"OI!" Donna snapped, offended. "Don't you even! Not my fault you went with a weird pun!"

_Wasn't!_

"Was so!"

_Wasn- Donna Noble, silence. I hear someone outside._

"Sile-!" Her initial response of being offended was cut short by the tone from the Time Lady's mind to hers. The Moment, or Rose, or Space Girl, whoever…. she sounded panicked. "Like who….?" she whispered, looking around.

_I can hear the person, but I can also feel them, Donna Noble. It's a Time Lord._

"The Doctor?!" Donna whispered, eyes lighting at the thought of the plucky, skinny as a strip of bacon alien coming along. Hopefully, he'd fix things. He'd help the Moment, and he'd have a **lot** of explaining to do, and apologizing.

_Not to break your reunion hopes, but it is not the Doctor._

"...The Master, then?"

_The Valeyard. The one who did this to me._

"Oh, shite…."

_Yes._

Donna's head turned to look outside, and she could almost make out a shape. It was a man, standing in front of the car, drumming his fingers on the hood. He was looking right at the two of them, a dark smile twisted on his face, the whites of his teeth reflecting a bit. Donna's system was paralyzed with terror. This man had done that to the Moment, and would do who knew what to the two of them now. The metallic scraping on the car told them he had some sort of weapon, and the Moment's hand trembled against Donna's side.

_I'll protect you, Donna Noble… like I couldn't protect **her**..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I hope it didn't disappoint! The next chapter has a lot to look forward to: smut between 11 and Rose, 3 deaths, and the very beginning of Rose's commitment.
> 
> I understand for some people the time jumps might be a bit difficult, but they are meant to slowly fill in the story of the past, the present, and the future as things move along. If you need, I can label each one as past/present/future, if you'd find it helpful!
> 
> Peace and love,
> 
> Naturalblues


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